J    -A/-.,;/ 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


A         <v 


THE  LOST  MINE   OF 
THE  MONO 

A  Tale  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 

BY 
C.  H.  B.  KLETTE 


Cochrane   Publishing  Company 

New  York 

1909 


Copyright,  1908. 

BY 

C.  H.  B.  KXETTE. 


PS 


PART    I 


The  Mystery  of  the    Mountain 


CHAPTER  I. 


i  ARRIVE  AT  THE;  SHEEP  RANCH. 


WHAT  frail,  intangible  threads  sometimes  serve  in 
this  world  to  convey  impressions  over  the  tides  of  time ! 
As  an  instance,  Sutcliff  was  down  to-day,  like  a  breath 
from  the  hills,  in  an  attempt  to  interest  me  once  more 
in  the  lost  mine.  But  it  was  not  his  appearance — wel 
come  as  that  always  is, — that  has  brought  to  mind  this 
beautiful  October  day  all  those  half-remembered,  half- 
forgotten  details  of  that  story  of  the  Mono,  and  our 
incredible  connection  therewith,  bridging  as  it  were  the 
past  and  the  present,  the  seen  and  the  unseen.  For 
long  hours  before — since  the  earliest  morn  in  fact, — • 
had  my  memory  been  occupied  in  the  turning  of  its 
pages,  and  brought  about  by  what  frail  prompting  do 
you  think?  A  subtle,  immaterial  something  in  the 
mellow  radiance  of  the  sun  in  its  play  over  our  rifled 
vineyards,  and  in  the  subdued  intonation  in  the  murmur 
of  the  wind  that  springs  so  balmily  from  the  north-west 
— the  last  of  our  trades, — and  stirs  into  a  dreamy  and 
half-melancholy  life  the  long  collonades  of  russetting- 
poplars  that  rise  here  and  there  upon  the  landscape, 
white-stemmed,  high  into  the  glory  of  our  skies.  Noth 
ing  more. 

5 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Not  that  it  was  October  in  which  the  adventure  con 
necting  us  for  all  time  with  the  tale  took  place.  It  was 
much  earlier  in  the  year  in  fact, — June,  I  think.  But 
in  a  general  way  October  in  the  valley  is  but  little  dif 
ferent  from  June  in  the  high  Sierra.  There  is  in  both 
that  same  soft  glamor  to  the  sunshine, — that  same  ca 
ressing  touch  to  the  breeze.  What  is  wanting  to  make 
a  similitude  already  striking  even  more  so  is  a  dash 
of  greater  crispness  to  this  October  air,  to  make  it  more 
suggestive  of  the  nearness  of  the  frost  imps  which 
seem  forever  to  hover  about  the  mountain  tops.  For 
away  up  there  among  the  peaks  summer's  sojourn  is 
at  best  fleeting, — lost  in  fact  in  the  contending  embraces 
of  the  springtime  and  the  autumn.  Barely  have  the 
snows  disappeared  from  among  the  granite  boulders 
above  the  timber  line, — barely  have  the  crisp  grasses  of 
the  glacial  meadows,  splashed  with  the  lilac  of  the  daisy 
and  the  scarlet  of  the  Indian  pink,  had  time  to  flourish 
and  seed,  when  through  a  dark,  crystal  -  clear,  starlit 
night  comes  the  nip  of  frost  to  tell  of  the  approach 
again  of  winter  and  its  encloaking  down  of  snow. 

This  was  years  ago, — in  the  middle  eighties,  to  be 
precise.  Some  years  before  Waring  and  myself  had  been 
classmates  at  college,  where  we  took  an  engineering 
course  together.  A  steady  correspondence  during  the 
subsequent  years  had  ripened  the  acquaintance  thus  be 
gun  into  a  regard  much  warmer  than  is  usual.  It  was 
in  response  to  an  oft-reiterated  invitation  to  visit  him 
at  the  ranch  that  I  came, — my  desires  a  little  quickened 
perhaps  in  that  the  invitation  held  promise  of  a  trip  into 
the  back  mountains ;  and  having  come,  and  met  Naomi, 
to  most  keenly  regret  not  having  accepted  his  invitation 
earlier  in  our  acquaintance. 

6 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Shepherds  Rest,  as  Waring's  home  was  rather  neatly 
named,  was  situated  on  the  banks  of  a  broad,  shallow 
watercourse  a  short  distance  from  where  it  debouched 
from  the  hills  to  trail  a  sinuous  course  over  the  plain 
far  out  into  the  mists  of  distance.  Back  of  it  arose  the 
hills,  where  at  almost  any  season  of  the  year  the  War 
ing  flocks  were  to  be  discerned  in  their  slow  trailings 
across  their  face; — hills  that  were  brown  and  bare,  yet 
unspeakably  beautiful  in  their  silence  and  loneliness ; 
their  winding  gorges  touched  with  a  deepening  purple. 
Before  it  spread  the  level  pasture  lands  of  the  plains, 
— a  lone  butte  or  table  alone  breaking  the  monotony  of 
view, — to  where  the  wheat-fields  of  the  middle  valley 
spoke  of  another  phase  of  our  civilization  that  each  suc 
ceeding  year  reached  further  into  this  voiceless  haunt 
of  nature.  The  white  ranch-house  itself,  and  its  attend 
ant  stables  and  bunkhouse,  were  snugly  ensconced  in 
a  clump  of  bluegums  and  peppertrees, — a  dark  blur 
upon  the  landscape  visible  for  miles  around; — the  low, 
rambling,  weatheirworn  shearing-shedls,  and  the  mal 
odorous  dipping-pens,  beneath  some  cottonwoods  on  the 
opposite  bank,  forming  an  effective  picture  in  contrast. 
Such  in  a  few  words  was  Roger's  sheepranch,  where 
he  had  been  born  and  raised,  and  had  come  to  love 
nature  with  a  depth  of  feeling  that  but  few  understood. 

I  remember  he  was  alone  when  I  arrived,  the  exact 
date  of  my  coming,  owing  to  business  pressure,  having 
been  more  or  less  a  matter  of  doubt.  His  reception  of 
me  was  cordial  to  a  degree,  and  he  seemed  unable  to 
to  do  all  that  his  heart  would  dictate  for  my  comfort. 
He  placed  me  to  an  appetizing  lunch  in  a  low-ceilinged 
room  which  opened  on  two  of  its  sides  upon  a  broad 
veranda,  where  the  cool  dusk  made  by  the  clambering 

7 


The  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

vines  and  the  overarching  trees,  and  the  somnolent  calm 
of  the  noon  of  the  summer  day,  were  in  pleasing  con 
trast  to  the  glare  and  heat  upon  the  visible  plain  beyond. 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  was  his  oft-repeated  deprecation, 
"that  mother  and  Naomi  are  not  here  to  assist  in  re 
ceiving  you.  They  are  on  a  call  at  the  Ferral  ranch, 
you  know.  We  must  do  the  best  we  can  under  the 
circumstances  and  console  ourselves  with  the  thought 
that  they  will  be  back  during  the  evening." 

Later  we  withdrew  into  an  adjoining  room  that  was 
half  parlor,  half  library,  where  several  cases  lined  the 
walls,  containing  a  number  of  books  and  many  valuable 
Indian  relics,  the  gatherings  evidently  of  years.  A 
number  of  unfinished  sketches  in  oil  were  scattered 
about,  together  with  scores  of  photographs,  —  for 
Roger  was  not  only  an  artist  of  no  small  calibre,  but 
a  camera-fiend  as  well.  The  impressions  were  mostly 
of  the  mountains, — a  particularly  clever  piece  in  oil  be 
ing  a  view  of  the  Deerhorn  Meadows  in  evening  glow, 
where  the  Butte  in  the  background  hung  in  a  haze  that 
was  realistic  to  a  degree. 

Singularly  enough  my  attention  from  the  first  was 
attracted  to  a  piece  of  quartz  profusely  interlaced  with 
free  gold.  It  was  quite  a  large  specimen,  rich  beyond 
anything  T  had  ever  seen,  very  white  and  very  pure,  and 
placed  with  a  boy's  eye  for  effect  upon  a  cushion  of 
purple  plush  beneath  a  glass  half-globe.  Altogether  it 
was  a  very  conspicuous  object.  Yet  I  remember  so  well 
that  it  was  none  of  these  but  an  air  of  strange  familiar 
ity  which  drew  me  to  it  from  the  first.  It  was  so  like 
a  piece  I  had  seen  but  a  short  time  before  at  my  cousin 
Ida's  home  in  a  distant  part  of  the  state,  whither  I  had 
made  a  flying  visit  in  the  vain  hope  of  meeting  my 


The  Lost  Mim  of  the  Mono. 

uncle  on  a  business  matter,  that  for  a  moment  I  won 
dered  whether  it  was  not  by  some  unexplained  chance 
one  and  the  same. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  That,"  he  answered,  "  is  from  the  famous  lost  mine 
of  the  Mono." 

"  Indeed."  For  I  had  heard  of  it.  "  How  came  you 
by  it?" 

"  It  was  given  my  father  years  ago  by  an  Indian 
herder  as  a  mark  of  his  especial  esteem." 

Reading  my   interest  he  resumed  a  moment  later : — 

"  The  poor  old  fellow  is  dead  now, — killed  under 
rather  peculiar  circumstances,  I  thought.  I  see  you 
would  like  to  hear  the  story.  I  have  not  the  least  ob 
jection  I  assure  you.  It  is  short  and  I  will  furthermore 
go  straight  to  the  marrow." 

I  assented. 

"  It  was  while  we  were  in  the  mountains  a  few  sum 
mers  ago  that  he  came  one  day  to  my  father  with  the 
plea  that  he  be  permitted  to  visit  his  rancheria.  This  is 
by  no  means  an  unusual  request  from  the  Indian  herds 
men  ;  and  as  the  distance  was  but  a  few  miles,  my  father 
gave  a  ready  consent  enough, — possibly  feeling  that  he 
might  as  well  do  so  with  grace,  as  had  the  request  been 
denied  the  old  fellow  would  have  sulked,  and  the  chances 
are  eventually  gone  anyway.  A  week  passed,  and  no 
Indian  appearing  another  was  sent  out  with  instructions 
to  hunt  him  up.  This  fellow,  with  an  Indian's  idea  of 
despatch,  showed  up  two  days  later  with  the  story  that 
the  chief  had  some  days  before  gone  on  a  hunt  with  a 
white  friend, — a  stranger  who  had  appeared  at  the 
rancheria  a  day  before.  That  same  evening  Sutcliff— 
who,  by-the-way,  is  one  of  several  I  have  invited  to  ac- 

9 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

company  us  on  our  trip, — reported  the  finding  of  the 
body  of  the  old  Indian  among  some  rocks  in  a  gorge  in 
the  near  vicinity  of  Spirit  Mountain.  He  had  been 
stabbed  to  death." 

Interested  I  maintained  my  silence. 

"  We  notified  the  tribe  on  the  Fork  and  there  was 
much  wailing,  for  the  old  fellow  was  a  chief  or  a  high 
something  among  them  and  much  respected,  not  to  say 
revered.  And  I  fear  that  with  him  has  died  the  secret 
of  the  location  of  this  famous  lost  mine." 

"Why  so?" 

"  It  seems  the  secret  was  never  the  common  property 
of  the  tribe.  Only  the  reigning  chief  and  the  next  of  kin 
to  him  knew  of  it.  And  I  remember  this  one  once  told 
my  father,  when  he  was  being  rather  closely  questioned, 
that  it  had  come  to  that  pass  that  he  alone  of  all  his 
people  knew  just  where  the  lead  lay.  He  had  a  very 
great  regard  for  my  father,  and  I  know  he  did  not  lie 
to  him." 

"  Could  the  old  fellow  not  be  made  to  divulge  his 
secret  ?  " 

"You  do  not  know  the  Indian  nature,  Paul,  I  see,  and 
least  of  all  this  old  fellow's.  Our  races  mingle,  it  is  true, 
but  an  impassable  chasm  lies  between  us  just  the  same. 
Only  those  who  become  one  of  them — the  squaw-man  in 
short, — stands  the  least  chance.  You  understand,  of 
course,  that  the  ordinary  inducements  in  the  way  of  a 
bribe  do  not  obtain  here." 

"  I  can  very  well  understand  that.  And  who  killed 
him?" 

Waring  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  That  riddle  has  never  been  solved  to  my  satisfaction. 
But  if  I  may  judge,  not  by  one  of  his  tribe.  You  see  the 

10 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

whites  as  a  rule  do  not  interfere  where  any  disagreements 
lie  strictly  among  themselves,  so  that  a  show  of  dip 
lomacy  or  secrecy  is  not  necessary.  In  fact  when  one 
of  their  number  becomes  so  rampantly  bad  that  he  comes 
to  be  generally  feared,  he  is  quite  frequently  hunted  like 
a  beast  of  the  forest  by  his  own  people,  and  on  his  death 
the  white  man  is  told  openly  thereof.  There  is  no  at 
tempt  at  secrecy.  The  only  mourners  are  his  nearest 
relatives,  and  the  mourning  is  short.  In  this  case,  how 
ever,  the  mourning  was  protracted,  and  so  affected  the 
entire  tribe  that  it  left  little  room  for  such  a  construction 
here." 

"And  the  white  man  ?  " 

"  Disappeared  as  mysteriously  as  he  had  come,  as  far 
at  least  as  I  am  able  to  say.  I  remember  once  asking 
one  of  our  Indian  packers  whether  suspicion  did  not  in 
some  way  rest  upon  him,  but  he  only  looked  grave,  and 
gave  a  negative  shake  of  his  head  in  answer.  No;  he 
stands  above  their  suspicion,  that  is  plain.  There  was 
unquestionably  a  third  and  secret  figure  in  the  deal." 

"  On  what  do  you  base  that  belief?  " 

"  Simply  on  the  facts  as  I  have  given  them.  Sutcliff 
and  I  did  indeed  in  a  spirit  of  investigation  climb  to  the 
ridge  above,  searching  for  whatever  evidence  we  could 
find.  But  it  was  mighty  little  we  found,  I  must  say; 
only  a  few  confusing  foot-prints,  then  already  half-ob 
literated,  and  we  gave  up  in  despair." 

I  lit  a  cigar  and,  seated  comfortably  in  a  large  wicker 
chair  on  the  north  veranda,  where  the  breeze  from  across 
the  stubble-field  came  to  us  tempered  by  a  number  of 
spreading  fig-trees,  recounted  what  I  knew  of  the  history 
of  the  other  specimen. 

"  He  too  got  it  from  an  Indian,"  I  said,  explaining 

II 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono, 

my  uncle's  connection,  " — one  whom  in  some  way  he 
had  favored  once." 

It  was  not  a  long  story,  yet  from  the  beginning,  1 
noticed,  it  held  a  special  interest  for  him.  As  I  pro 
ceeded  his  face  assumed  a  far-away  expression  as  if  in 
thought  he  was  threading  the  past;  all  the  while,  how 
ever,  as  I  soon  found  out,  not  losing  a  single  detail, 
small  or  large,  of  my  narration. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  interrupted  suddenly,  with  the  air  of 
one  who  has  arrived  at  a  satisfactory  explanation  of 
what  had  been  a  somewhat  puzzling  problem,  "  is  he  a 
man  of  middle  age,  rather  sturdily  built,  straight  as  a 
mountain  pine,  yet  with  a  face  giving  the  impression 
of  premature  ageing,  hair  and  moustache  almost  white, 
and  eyes,  dark  and  liquid,  that  seem  to  read  your  very 
soul ? " 

I  half  rose  from  my  seat  in  surprise. 

"  You  could  not  possibly  have  described  him  better," 
I  returned,  reseating  myself  and  giving  another  puff 
from  my  cigar,  my  interest  in  turn  receiving  additional 
impetus. 

'  Then  I  have  met  him,"  he  continued  simply. 
'  That  is  not  surprising  since  there  is  not  a  district 
worth  mentioning  from  Siskiyou  to  San  Diego  that  he 
does  not   seem  to  know   like  a  book.     The  question  is 
only,  where  ?  " 

"  In  the  Flats." 

"And  when?" 

"  I  think  it  was  two  years  ago, — the  year  I  left  college 
to  recuperate  in  the  mountains." 

I  remained  silent,  for  I  felt  that  he  would  resume 
the  thread  of  his  narrative  without  mv  aid. 


12 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"And  the  circumstances  ? "  I  asked  at  last,  grown  im 
patient. 

"  Were  commonplace  enough.  Yet,  I  remember  every 
circumstance  of  that  meeting  as  if  it  was  only  yester 
day.  Perhaps  it  is  because  it  was  in  the  spring,  for  that 
is  the  season  when  I  am  most  sensitive  to  impressions. 
Eye,  ear,  nostril, — every  sense  is  most  keenly  alive,  and 
not  a  flash  of  light,  dash  of  color,  or  trill  of  nature's 
music  escapes  me.  But  whatever  the  cause,  that  meet 
ing  is,  I  feel,  rather  unduly  impressed  upon  my  mind." 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE    MEETING    AT    THE    FLATS. 


I  REMEMBERED  Waring  as  a  good  hand  at  telling  a 
story, — given  possibly  just  a  trifle  too  much  to  the 
picturesque  and  dramatic — and  as  I  listened  now  with 
my  eyes  half-closed  I  came  to  release  my  imagination 
from  the  leash  of  my  will,  to  allow  it  to  follow  in  the 
train  of  the  story  free  and  unfettered;  with  the  result 
that  I  saw  with  an  unwonted  clearness  every  action  and 
surrounding  of  what  was  to  me  a  rather  interesting 
episode. 

"  It  was  about  this  time  of  the  year,"  he  began.  "  I 
was  just  down  from  the  cool  heights  of  the  summits  and 
remember  only  too  well  the  merciless  nature  of  that 
summer  sun  as  it  poured  its  light  in  a  white,  blinding 
mist  into  the  broad  mountain  valley  and  the  one  tor 
tuous  thoroughfare  of  the  place.  For  nearly  a  week, 
I  was  told,  it  had  blazed  with  just  such  fervency,  until 
the  chaparraled  slopes  of  the  ridge  to  the  west,  tufted 
with  an  occasional  clump  of  pines  or  a  lone  oak,  had 
browned  visibly,  and  all  the  unnumbered  little  streams 
which  a  fortnight  before — while  on  our  way  up — had 
given  life  to  every  gulch,  had  stilled  their  murmur; 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

chains  of  stagnating  pools,  about  which  the  half-wild 
cattle  of  the  hills  stood  congregated,  alone  marking  their 
one-time  courses. 

"  But  the  witchery  of  the  hills,  the  glare  of  the  sun, 
nay,  the  growing  heat  itself,. seemed  matters  of  small 
importance  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  Flats  that  morning. 
For  while  it  was  still  spring  it  was  also  harvest  time, 
paradoxical  as  this  may  seem.  You  have  never  been 
there,  have  you?  Well,  you  should  know  that  the  place 
is  not  altogether  self-sustaining,  and  that  since  the  late 
autumn  of  the  previous  year,  half-hid  in  the  snows  of 
winter,  it  had  hibernated,  so  to  speak,  and  subsisted 
upon  what  the  accidents  of  the  past  season  had  brought 
it.  At  the  time  which  I  am  trying  to  describe  for  you 
it  sought  like  a  well-regulated  ant-hill,  and  while  the 
warm  sun  of  circumstance  shone,  to  granary  as  bounti 
ful  a  harvest  as  came  possible  in  the  fresh  era  of  prosper 
ity  which  had  just  dawned  with  the  birth  of  spring  and 
the  reopening  of  the  mills  and  mountain  pastures. 

"  It  was  hot  even  for  that  early  hour.  The  usual 
breeze  of  the  day  had  not  yet  risen  with  any  certitude, 
a  tantalizing  puff  only  breathing  upon  you  now  and 
then,  and  in  the  wake  of  the  fitful  traffic  the  dust  that 
lay  fetlock  deep  upon  the  road  rose  in  stifling  clouds, 
to  fall  where  it  rose.  The  heavy  lumber  wagons  of  the 
mountains  passed  up  and  down,  powdered  gray  with  the 
dust  of  the  hills  if  from  below,  or  red  with  that  of  the 
upper  grades  if  from  above.  Indians  of  both  sexes, 
and  of  every  age  and  condition,  the  bright  tints  of  whose 
garb  gave  color  and  a  certain  vivacity  to  the  scene, 
haunted  the  trails  and  the  marts  of  trade ;  while 
before  the  busy  blacksmiths,  Westfall's,  and  Down- 
ing's,  the  outfits  of  dogs  and  mules  and  packs  of  several 

15 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

dallying  sheep-men  stood  in  confusing  little  groups.  I 
remember  also  seeing  the  stage  and  four  with  the 
mountain  mail  and  its  daily  quota  of  Yosemite  tourists 
swing  down  the  red,  dusty  grade  among  the  straight 
bull-pines,  the  horses  on  the  jump  in  obedience  to  the 
sharp  crack  of  the  whip  in  the  hands  of  the  dustered 
driver,  and  draw  up  with  a  jerk  before  the  big,  white 
hotel  for  a  fresh  relay  and  an  indifferent  meal.  It 
looked  as  if  it  was  the  unalterable  circumstance  of  the 
distance  which  prescribed  this  last,  few  suspecting  the 
proprietor  of  the  stage  line  and  the  owners  of  the  turn 
pike  to  be  potent  while  silent  factors  in  the  management 
of  the  hotel.  But  the  meal  once  over,  and  philosophy 
following  on  the  heels  of  a  sated  appetite,  it  was  gener 
ally  charged  as  one  of  the  minor  ills  of  life  and  soon 
lost  in  the  contemplation  of  a  quiet  afternoon's  drive 
through  the  deep-green  forests  that  crowned — as  could 
be  seen  from  the  broad,  airy  piazzas — the  sweeping 
slopes  to  the  east,  the  advance  of  the  mountains  proper, 
immovable  as  the  very  foundations  of  the  earth,  and 
eloquently  silent  in  the  tenuous,  pearl-gray  mists  of 
summer. 

"  I  myself  had  ridden  over  early  that  morning  by  way 
of  Heron  Valley  with  my  train  of  mules,  having  passed 
the  night  at  Sharp's  on  the  Fork,  and  these  were  now 
hitched  to  the  bars,  or  nosing  about  the  watering 
trough  in  front  of  the  Laramore  store.  I  had  com 
pleted  my  purchases  and  was  tightening  the  cinches 
of  the  animals  preparatory  to  loading  them  when  my 
attention  was  called  to  the  gentleman  I  speak  of.  He 
had  mounted  his  pack  upon  his  burro  in  tolerably  neat 
order,  but  somehow  now,  in  a  moment  of  abstraction, 

16 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

the  mysteries  of  the  diamond-hitch  on  the  instant  seemed 
to  perplex  him." 

Roger  allowed  himself  a  moment  for  reverie  before  he 
resumed. 

"  I  hesitated  but  a  moment  before  I  went  to  his  as 
sistance. 

"  'Allow  me.' 

"  His  was  a  face  very  strongly  marked,  bronzed  as  it 
was  by  the  sun,  furrowed  by  time,  and  aged — I  can 
find  no  term  more  expressive  of  the  action — by  some 
deep-seated  mental  or  psychical  struggle.  His  cheek 
bones  were  flushed  with  the  hectic  of  a  disease  which 
after  a  prolonged  aggressive  war  with  the  vitality  of  a 
generous  nature  had  obtained  the  master-hand,  and  was 
now  undermining  with  ever-increasing  rapidity  the 
foundations  of  an  iron  constitution.  The  lips,  thin  and 
dry,  as  if  sapped  by  the  heat  of  some  inner  fire,  formed 
the  mouth  of  a  man  of  untiring  good-nature,  and  a 
rather,  I  thought,  vacillating  disposition.  Now,  any  one 
of  these  characteristics  alone  would  have  proven  suffi 
cient  to  have  drawn  attention  to  him,  and  left  an  im 
pression.  But  it  was  the  eyes  that  left  with  me  that 
haunting  sense,  so  intense  in  their  placidity  were  they, 
so  measureless  their  calm ;  a  calm  born  of  persistent 
thought  centred  upon  the  inner  man,  and  of  the  assur 
ance  succeeding  a  subsiding  doubt.  I  question  in  fact 
whether  the  first  glance  had  not  left  with  you,  as  it  did 
with  me,  doubts  as  to  the  sanity  of  their  light.  They 
not  only  possessed  the  power  of  seeing  that  which  ob 
structed  the  view,  but  seemingly  also  the  power  to  see 
through  and  beyond.  This  placidity  had  become  their 
habitual  expression;  for  while  they  lighted  up  with  a 
more  comprehensible  intelligence  on  being  interrogated, 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

and  seemed  to  be  fully  alive  to  all  their  surroundings, 
this  intelligence  vanished  the  moment  the  source  of  in 
terest  was  removed,  and  was  replaced  by  the  expression 
I  have  sought  to  describe.  Such  in  short  was  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  man, — an  outer  appearance  sure  to  at 
tract  attention  anywhere,  let  alone  in  so  insignificant  a 
place  as  the  Flats. 

"  I  had  but  to  re-arrange  the  blankets  and  the  folded 
square  of  canvas  that  sheltered  the  pack,  and  to  lash 
them  as  securely  as  the  experience  of  years  had  taught 
me, — which  seemed  more  than  the  little  beast  was  ordinar 
ily  accustomed  to,  for  he  groaned  dismally  and  switched 
his  tail  as  if  to  assuage  certain  sufferings,  whether  real 
or  feigned  is  not  always  to  be  determined  with  accuracy, — 
and  my  self-imposed  task  was  completed. 

" '  I  see  you  are  adept  at  the  business,'  he  said,  his 
eyes  lighting  up  with  that  more  comprehensible  light. 
'  I  admire  proficiency.' 

"  Now,  there  was  nothing  in  the  words ;  but  in  their 
delivery  and  in  the  voice  itself,  there  was  a  charm 
strangely  attractive  to  me.  It  has  often  been  a  matter  of 
wonder  to  me  since,  as  I  believe  myself  to  be  of  too  posi 
tive  a  nature  to  be  lightly  influenced.  The  few  attach 
ments  of  my  life  are,  as  you  know,  the  outgrowths  of 
years  of  intimacy.  I  can  only  attribute  it  to  the  sway  of 
some  occult  power,  or  at  least  to  the  presence  of  some 
finer  matter  than  usually  surrounds  us.  Upon  the 
mountain-top,  as  you  will  find,  we  are  much  more  sus 
ceptible  to  heat  and  cold,  and  to  every  emotion  of  our 
nature,  than  in  the  valley  below.  May  not  the  aura  of 
a  life  etherealized  by  years  of  thought  have  been  more 
palpable  to  even  my  grosser  nature  than  those  of  lives 
less  so? 

18 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

'  Which  way  do  you  travel  ?  '  I  asked  suddenly,  my 
feelings  for  the  moment  getting  the  better  of  my 
breeding. 

"He  pointed  to  the  south-east,  where  in  the  distance 
the  dark  form  of  Spirit  Mountain  loomed  grandly  with 
its  flank  of  snow,  as  he  answered : — 

"  '  By  way  of  the  Valley  into  the  Basin.' 

"  '  I  regret  it,'  said  I,  '  but  my  way  takes  me  by  the 
lumber-mills,  and  over  the  divide  into  the  Summit 
Meadows,  where  I  camp  to-night.  I  could  wish  that  our 
paths  lay  more  together  as  I  would,  I  know,  much  enjoy 
your  company.' 

"  He  smiled  as  he  answered  me : — 

"  '  You  flatter  me,  my  friend.  Yet,  I  too,  must  express 
regret.  However,  since  fortune  is  so  unkind  to-day, 
let  us  hope  that  at  some  future  time  she  will  be  more 
propitious.' 

"  He  had  mounted  into  his  saddle  and  now  turned  to 
me  with  an  outstretched  hand. 

"  '  Goodby,  Mr.—" 

"  (  Waring, — Roger  Waring.' 

"  '  Good-by  then,  Mr.  Waring.  We  shall  meet  again.' 
'  I  sincerely  hope  so.  Good  morning.' 

"  I  watched  him  with  interested  eye  ride  down  the 
road,  followed  by  the  burro  at  a  cross-footed  pace  and 
with  careening  pack,  ford  the  stream  at  the  foot,  and 
disappear  in  the  green  of  the  forest  beyond. 

"This  was  in  June  of  1880  or  1881.  The  middle  of 
September  had  come,  and  with  it  the  first  fore-runners 
of  a  beautiful  autumn,  before  we  withdrew  from  the 
never-ending  charm  of  the  higher  mountains.  Of  the 
interim  I  had  passed  by  far  the  greater  part  in  the  saddle, 
riding  for  days  at  a  time  alone  with  my  train  of  mules. 

19 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Nor  did  I  confine  myself  to  any  one  trail.  I  wanted  di 
version,  and  sought  it  in  a  trial  of  nearly  all.  While  my 
favorite  one  was  the  route  by  the  Summit  Meadows,  on 
several  occasions  I  came  down  by  the  Scarlett  Mill  back 
of  Heron  Valley.  Once  I  came  down  by  Wawona.  I 
even  tried  the  intricacies  of  the  lesser  Shuteye.  Finally, 
on  my  last  trip,  I  passed  a  night  among  the  giants  near 
the  Soquel  Mills.  But  in  all  my  devious  rides  through 
the  mountains  that  year  I  never  again  came  upon  my 
friend,  the  old  gentleman." 


20 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   START   FOR  THE   MOUNTAINS.      THE   STORM. 


THE  day  was  hot,  but  with  sundown  there  came  a 
breeze  from  the  west  and  I  passed  the  night  in  ideal  re 
pose.  I  had  been  led  to  a  belief  that  I  would  be  called 
early  and  in  this  I  was  surely  not  disappointed,  for  with 
the  first  peep  of  day,  short  as  that  June  night  was,  I 
heard. the  male  portion  of  the  household  up  and  around.  In 
the  sleeping  quiet  I  heard  also  an  occasional  crow  and  an 
ever-increasing  babel  from  the  adjacent  barnyard,  and 
from  far  away  in  the  direction  of  the  quaint  Table 
Mountain,  the  lugubrious  hooting  of  a  prairie  owl.  I 
sprang  from  my  bed,  to  leisurely  dress.  Having  de 
scended,  I  for  some  time  stood  out  upon  the  porch  below 
where  the  soft  light  of  the  approaching  day  and  that  of 
the  sinking  moon  were  in  a  gentle  conflict  for  supremacy, 
drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  dawn,  and  with  deep  re 
spirations  enjoying  the  morning  air.  Then  tempted  forth 
by  the  quiet,  and  the  delicate  tint  to  hill  and  hollow,  I 
took  down  the  little  "  twenty-two"  from  its  place  in  the 
hall,  and  with  Jack  the  collie — already  my  fast  friend — 
started  out  for  a  turn  over  the  mint-strewn  plain,  prom 
ising  Roger  to  return  at  the  first  toll  of  the  breakfast 
bell. 

21 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

It  was  not  long  in  coming,  and  I  at  once  retraced  my 
steps,  to  find  Ling,  the  accommodating  celestial,  whose 
dual  function  it  was  to  herd  the  little  band  of  bucks  and 
do  the  simpler  cooking  of  the  now  much-diminished 
household,  pouring  the  coffee,  and  Waring  already 
seated  at  table. 

I  had  barely  taken  place  myself  when  a  shout  came 
from  without. 

"  That's  SutclifF,"  explained  Roger,  rising  and  step- 
ing  to  the  door,  where  he  waved  a  hand  in  greeting. 

"Good  for  you,  boy,"  I  heard  a  boisterous  but  good- 
natured  voice  exclaim  a  moment  later ;  "  I  see  you  are 
standing  in  for  an  early  start.  Well,  that's  right.  We 
want  to  get  through  that  suburb  of  Hades,  Oro  Fino,  as 
early  in  the  day  as  we  can  find  possible." 

"  I  reckon  yer  friend's  come,"  I  heard  another  drawl 
— a  voice  peculiar  in  that  there  was  no  inflection,  either 
rising  or  falling,  in  what  was  said.  "  I  beared  someun 
apepperin'  up  the  crick  with  the  twenty-two." 

I  looked  out  curiously  from  my  seat  and  saw  a  man, 
clad  in  a  suit  of  freshly  laundered  blue-jeans,  six  feet 
two  in  height  and  of  a  corresponding  thinness  lean  his 
gun  against  the  white  palings  where  a  few  late  jacque 
minots  filled  the  air  with  their  fragrance,  and  then  divest 
himself  of  a  variety  of  articles  no  mortal  but  himself 
could  possibly  have  found  use  for  on  a  trip  such  as  was 
proposed. 

"  Yes,  he's  here." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,"  put  in  he  who  I  felt  assured  was 
SutclifF,  and  who  I  shortly  discovered  desired  nothing 
half  so  much  as  a  good  outing.  "  There  is  nothing  now 
to  interfere  with  our  having  the  time  of  our  lives." 


22 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

1  was  introduced  to  Sutcliff,  who  extended  a  hand  in 
hearty  amity. 

"  I  want  you  two  to  be  friends,"  said  Roger  simply. 

"  We  are  from  this  moment,"  Sutcliff  exclaimed, 
clasping  my  hand  firmly,  the  lines  of  his  mouth  set 
gravely,  and  his  black,  penetrating  eyes  upon  mine. 

Then  turning  in  search  of  him  of  the  blue  jeans,  he 
continued : — 

''Allow  me  to  introduce  my  friend,  the  handiest  man 
in  seven  counties,  Silas  Stayton." 

Silas,  more  an  oddity  than  his  friend,  was  less  demon' 
strative  in  his  hand-shake. 

"  Shoot  anythin'  ?  "  he  asked  by  way  of  greeting. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  no,"  1  laughed.  "  I  had  a  shot 
at  a  coyote  I  found  near  the  corral,  and  which  I  sus 
pected  of  harboring  designs  against  Ling's  flock,  but 
that  was  all." 

"I  think  it  only  fair  to  warn  you  against  Si  as  a  freak," 
Sutcliff  continued  a  moment  later.  "  My  word  for  it, 
you  will  have  ample  evidence  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say 
before  you  are  many  days  older.  Ten  to  one,  Roger,  our 
friend  returns  to  the  wiles  of  the  metropolis  with  one  or 
more  of  Silas's  everlasting  wooden  spoon  souvenirs. 
Take  me  up  ?  " 

"  Gad,  how  long  have  you  been  running  this  sure- 
thing  proposition  ?  "  asked  another  voice — this  from  the 
back  porch,  muffled  in  the  folds  of  a  towel  which  the 
owner  of  the  voice  was  applying  with  vigor  to  his  visage 
in  completion  of  his  morning's  ablutions. 

Sutcliff  laughed.  Even  Silas  was  moved  to  smile 
gravely  at  this  hit  at  one  of  his  foibles. 

"  This  is  Ballard,  Paul,"  Roger  explained  as  the  third 
party  appeared  in  the  room  followed  by  a  half-grown 

23 


The  Lost  Mitie  of  the  Mono. 

sheep-dog,  "a  friend  recently  from  the  city.  And  now 
that  you  are  all  here  and  have  broken  the  ice  of  first  ac 
quaintance,  let  us  sit  down  and  breakfast." 

The  buttress  which  supported  the  crest  of  Table 
Mountain  alone  shone  in  the  glory  of  sunrise  as  the 
wagon  and  four  bearing  our  equipment,  and  followed 
by  a  couple  of  led  mules,  drew  up  before  the  open  gate 
amid  the  playful  barkings  of  the  dogs,  and  we  clambered 
in,  with  much  bubbling  good  nature  taking  our  seats. 
Then,  with  a  considerable  show  of  life  on  the  part  of 
our  team  in  general,  a  decided  intractability  on  the  score 
of  the  off-leader,  and  as  pronounced  an  inclination  on 
the  part  of  the  mules  in  the  rear  to  pull  in  an  opposite 
direction,  we  bade  farewell  to  the  ranch  and  its  hospi 
tality  and  plunged  for  the  hills  over  the  rolling  lands  be 
tween.  Upon  a  high  point  some  distance  on,  where  the 
road  crossed  one  of  the  further  ridges,  and  where  we 
came  to  a  halt  to  rehook  a  loosened  tug,  I  turned  for  one 
last  look  to  the  rear,  to  see  against  the  dark  background 
of  the  clump  of  gums  the  white  forms  of  the  ladies  with 
handkerchiefs  a-fluttering  their  adieus,  and  a  little  to 
the  right  the  form  of  old  Ling,  preceded  by  the  collie, 
Jack,  in  his  slow  wend  across  the  stubble-field  for  the 
corral  on  the  low  bank  across  the  broad  sandy  creek-bed. 
Then  a  turn  in  the  road  hid  all  from  view. 

Shortly  after,  we  entered  the  hills  with  their  scattered 
oaks,  where  the  senses  found  much  to  interest  them. 
Copse  after  copse  was  vocal  with  the  twitter  of  many 
linnets ;  every  dell,  still  tinged  with  the  green  of  the 
browning  clover,  rang  with  the  song  of  the  meadow 
lark.  Here  and  there  a  red-winged  woodpecker  would 
fly  past  us  with  the  certitude  of  an  important  errand,  to 
a  moment  later  vary  the  discordance  of  its  chattering 

24 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

with  the  equally  unmusical  euphony  of  its  tapping  on 
some  hollow  limb. 

On  reaching  the  underbrush  of  buckeye  and  chaparral 
quail  showed  up  plentifully,  covey  after  covey  crossing 
our  path  in  flight  or  uneasily  sentinelling  the  rocks  on 
either  side.  Now  and  then,  too,  a  cottontail  bounded  to 
cover;  or  a  hare  whisked  through  the  tarweeds  and 
rested  not  in  its  flight  until  the  protection  of  an  inter 
vening  ridge  had  been  placed  between  it  and  the  threat 
ened  danger. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  ecstasy  of  that  ride  to  me, 
fresh  from  the  prison  of  city  life  and  all  its  dwarfing 
conventions.  Our  vehicle  had  been  selected  with  an  eye 
primarily  to  the  comfort  it  afforded.  Its  seats  were  deep 
and  wide,  and  backed  at  an  obliging  angle,  so  that  to  sit 
in  them  and  enjoy  the  sensation  of  rolling  over  the 
country  was  really  a  pleasure  to  be  envied.  As  the  sun 
topped  the  trees  and  peered  in  upon  us  with  a  growing 
ardor,  the  canvas  curtains  were  let  down  and  my  cigar- 
case  passed  around.  Then,  too,  Sutcliff  proved,  as  I 
knew  he  would,  a  prime  entertainer.  Raised  as  he  was 
in  those  hills  he  had  their  history  at  his  tongue's  end. 
Every  ranch  we  passed;  every  mountain  looming  so 
grandly  blue  before  us ;  nay,  every  mile  of  the  road  had 
it  seemed  some  experience  connected  with  it,  which  that 
morning  we  had  copiously  retailed  out  to  us. 

About  ten  o'clock  we  began  to  descend  into  the  Oro 
Fino  country.  Here  for  the  first  time  we  felt  the  heat, 
and  I  concluded  that  Sutcliff's  expression  of  the  early 
morning,  while  picturesque,  had  more  of  fact  than  fancy 
in  it.  The  breeze  had  died  away  or,  if  not,  the  high 
mountains  on  either  side — at  whose  common  base  we 
traced  the  broad,  sandy,  alder-fringed  bed  of  the  creek, — 

25 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

most  effectually  stilled  it.  The  dust  of  the  narrow  road 
bed,  whirled  into  the  quivering  air  by  the  wheels  of  our 
conveyance,  enveloped  us  in  a  stifling  cloud,  where  for 
quite  a  period  it  kept  an  even  pace  with  us,  finally  to  sub 
side  in  a  long  trail  in  our  rear.  Half-unconsciously  all  the 
gay  life  of  the  morning  had  withdrawn  to  the  shade,  from 
whence  only  at  long  intervals  came  the  solitary  chirp  of 
some  bird  disturbed  in  its  cover  by  our  approach.  All 
was  dust,  glare  and  heat. 

At  the  further  end  of  the  gulch  a  little  before  noon  we 
halted  for  dinner,  and  to  feed,  water  and  rest  our  animals. 
We  had  covered  some  fifteen  miles  of  the  road  since 
starting,  and  had  a  good  twelve  more  in  prospect  before 
reaching  the  camp  of  the  evening.  The  first  few  of 
these  we  found  were  quite  a  drain  upon  the  spirits  of 
our  animals  as  they  led  up  and  up,  and  ever  up,  to  the 
backbone  of  the  ridge  dividing  the  waters  of  the  Gulch 
from  those  of  the  Fork.  To  in  some  degree  ease  their 
burden,  two  or  more  of  us  usually  followed  or  led  afoot ; 
which  was  agreeable  enough  as  we  were  then  reaching 
an  altitude  where  the  oak  forest  grew  denser  and  the  air 
was  pleasantly  cool. 

About  four  o'clock  we  rounded  the  point  on  the  shed 
from  which  is  had  the  first  glimpse  of  the  dark,  straight 
bull-pines  which  tuft  the  broad  tumbled  canyon  of  the 
Fork,  in  the  softening  effulgence  of  the  afternoon  cir 
cling  in  sweeping  lines  down  from  the  north.  Here  the 
road  turned  sharply,  to  maintain  as  even  an  elevation  as 
the  topography  of  the  country  permitted.  In  the  fore 
ground  to  the  left  a  cone-shaped  mountain,  black  with 
its  own  shadow  and  a  broken  growth  of  arrowy  conifer, 
rose  to  the  view ;  while  opposite  the  east  was  sealed  to 
the  eye  of  man  by  a  long  ridge  clothed  likewise,  and 

26 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

broken  only  where  the  waters  of  the  Black  Laurel  had 
worked  a  tortuous  passage  to  the  Fork.  Far  back  of  this 
gorge,  miles  in  the  distance,  in  hazy  outlines  arose  our 
goal,  the  Mountain  of  the  Spirit  as  the  Indians  in  gen 
erations  past  had  named  it.  Its  broken  crest  just  then 
was  lost  in  strata  of  silvery  storm-clouds,  through  which 
at  times  as  they  broke  asunder  the  fields  of  snow  upon 
its  shadowed  slopes  gleamed  ghastly  white  and  cold.  It 
was  a  scene  notable  for  its  magnitude  of  proportions  and 
magnificent  distances,  and  its  effect  upon  us  became 
apparent  in  the  sudden  silence  that  fell  upon  our  party. 

Silas  was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"Reckon  we're  in  for  a  sprinkle,"  he  remarked, 
gravely  eyeing  the  gray  masses  of  vapor  which  we  were 
fast  approaching. 

"  I  fear  you're  right,  Si,"  Sutcliff  returned,  "or  the 
experience  of  years  counts  for  naught.  These  storms  are 
an  everyday  occurrence  at  this  time  of  the  year." 

"Around  the  mountain,  yes ;  but  it's  rare  they  reach 
the  Fork." 

"  Right  again.  I  see  you  are  a  close  observer.  Cradled 
upon  the  summits  they  are  borne  westward  upon  the 
winds  of  the  morning  to  be  whirled  capriciously  about 
the  mountain  through  the  day,  and  at  even  retire  to  the 
places  of  their  birth,  the  spires  of  the  Minarets.  Now 
that's  poetry.  But  seriously,  the  genius  of  the  country 
must  be  in  a  mood  gloomier  than  usual  to-day." 

Ballard,  to  give  his  dog  a  run,  here  sprang  to  the 
ground,  followed  by  Stay  ton  with  the  guns,  for  the 
quail  were  again  showing  in  the  chaparral.  At  this  point 
the  road  was  paralleled  on  one  side  by  a  primitive 
"  brush-fence,"  forming  the  finest  possible  harboring- 
place,  which  the  two  skirted,  one  on  either  side,  to 

27 


The  Lost  Miiie  of  the  Mono. 

neatly  drop  the  birds  as  they  arose.  The  "pup,"  a  gift 
of  Sutcliffs,  was  a  bright  little  fellow  enough,  but 
wholly  without  training.  Nevertheless  the  instincts  of 
the  race  were  there,  and  many  a  bird  was  retrieved 
that  afternoon  only  with  its  aid.  With  this  instinct, 
however,  as  quite  frequently  happens,  ran  a  character 
istic  that  stamped  it  as  an  opinionated  canine,  with  a 
firm  belief  apparently  in  a  division  of  the  spoils  of  the 
chase,  for  at  times  it  failed  to  appear  with  its  quarry; 
when  it  was  amusing  to  the  point  of  side-aching  laugb/- 
ter  to  follow  Ballard  scurrying  in  chase  among  the 
brush,  at  the  cost  of  much  profanity,  a  considerable  abra 
sion  of  the  cuticle,  and  a  gaping  rent  or  two  in  his 
garments ;  Stayton  all  the  while  with  a  stoic's  indiffer 
ence  winging  the  birds  as  they  arose. 

This  Stayton  was  what  Marryatt  would  have  de 
signated  as  an  "original."  If  common  report  was  to 
be  believed,  he  had  been  born  in  the  backwoods  of 
Michigan;  but  Si  was  a  man  of  very  few  words  and 
left  much  to  conjecture.  Tall  beyond  the  ordinary,  he 
stood  without  an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh.  Yet,  when 
it  came  to  work,  the  trying  kind  of  the  mountains,  he 
could  discount  anything  I  have  ever  seen  in  human 
form. 

He  gave  character  to  our  party.  His  long,  pointed 
beard,  which  he  fingered,  twisted,  and  pulled  in  his  per 
plexities,  was  his  secret  pride ;  his  hair  was  thin  and 
straight  and  showed  a  spot  in  the  rear  where  the  cut 
icle  shone  as  brown  as  his  visage.  This  one  ceased 
to  wonder  at  when  once  acquainted  with  his  habit  when 
"beyond  the  pales  of  civilization  of  wandering  in  shade 
and  shine  without  head-covering  of  any  kind,  and,  what 
seemed  stranger  still,  without  the  least  injury  to  him- 

28 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

self.  Not  but  that  he  possessed  headgear,  a  dusty  ar 
ticle  usually,  and  much  begrimed  with  perspiration,  it 
must  be  confessed;  but  this  he  generally  hung  away  or 
jammed  into  the  depths  of  a  packsack  on  first  pitching 
camp,  there  to  remain  until  we  were  ready  to  start 
for  other  fields.  On  this  trip  I  remember  it  was 
hung  on  a  low,  broken  limb  of  an  immense  fir,  where 
over  it  later  Sutcliff  in  a  spirit  of  mischief  fastened  the 
backstay  of  the  tent,  thus  securing  it  against  any  pos 
sibility  of  loss  or  misplacing.  This  was  at  the  Cherry- 
Creek  Meadows.  He  was  slow  and  measured  in  all  he 
did,  but  to  offset  this  he  was  never  idle ;  so  that  at  the 
close  of  the  day  as  a  quite  usual  thing  he  had  ac 
complished  as  much,  if  not  more,  than  the  average 
run  of  mortals. 

"  He's  a  born  genius."  Ballard  had  explained  to  me  in 
a  sweeping  assertion  earlier  in  the  day.  "  He  can  lay 
it  over  anybody  at  most  anything.  He  hauled  Waring's 
wool  to  the  station  this  shearing,  and  to  see  him  handle 
the  'single-line'  was  a  caution.  Then  he's  eccentric  to 
beat  the  devil.  Why,  here  for  a  month  past  he's  been 
hoarding  every  blest  old  oyster-can,  big  and  little,  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on,  and  a  week  ago  lay  off  a  day 
to  clean  up  and  solder  handles  on  the  whole  cheese." 

"  How  odd,"  I  interrupted,  excusably  possessed  with 
the  idea  that  Ballard  was  drawing  upon  his  imagina 
tion  for  my  edification ;  whereas,  as  I  found  later,  he 
was  confining  himself  strictly  to  the  truth.  "  What  on 
earth  did  he  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Why,  supplied  the  neighborhood  with  all  the  tin- 
cups  it  could  possibly  need  in  the  next  ten  years." 

"And  the  profits?" 

"  Were  as  that,"  returned  Ballard  sententiously, 

29 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

snapping  his  fingers,  "  for  he  never  charged  a  red  cent." 

"  How  strange." 

"  Did  you  see  any  of  his  work  at  Shepherds  Roost  ? 
— his  soap-stone  paper-weights,  or  some  of  the  spoons 
Sutcliff  gave  him  the  dig  about  at  breakfast?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"  Well,  it  don't  matter ;  your  wants  will  be  supplied 
in  this  line  in  due  course.  He  can  no  more  withstand 
the  sight  of  a  piece  of  wood  or  a  bit  of  stone  without 
wishing  to  sock  his  knife  into  them  than  my  sheep-dog 
here  can  a  plunge  into  a  handy  puddle.  And  he's  a 
dandy  at  basket-weaving,  and — but  the  devil,  take  him 
all  around  he's  a  corker." 

And  Ballard,  who  was  a  smallish,  dissipated-looking 
man  of  forty,  with  a  red  moustache,  weak  eyes,  and 
sporty  inclinations,  gave  a  sigh  of  despair  at  his  inabil 
ity  to  do  the  inventive  and  imitative  talent  of  his  friend 
justice. 

Meanwhile,  as  we  passed  over  the  road  which  wound 
among  the  tall,  symmetrical  pines  well-planted  in  the 
tansied,  boulder-strewn  gulches,  Sutcliff  dilated  upon 
the  various  points  of  interest  as  they  appeared. 

"  Yonder  lies  Gray's,"  he  observed,  pointing  with  his 
whip  to  a  dun-colored  clearing  halfway  up  a  bluish- 
green  ridge  some  miles  to  the  north  which  appeared 
in  an  opening  among  the  tufted  tops  of  the  conifers. 
"  If  nothing  happens  to  interfere  we  shall  pass  there 
by  sunrise  to-morrow.  Then  here,  more  to  the  right, 
around  that  baldish  ridge  is  where  the  Black  Laurel 
comes  in.  That  canyon  is  one  of  the  roughest  in  these 
mountains.  More  to  the  south  here,  do  you  see  that 
rocky  scar  on  the  face  of  that  slope? — that's  the  Figure 
7.  You  see  the  resemblance?  Those  slopes  are  dense 

30 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

with  scrub-oak  and  manzanita,  and  are  quite  a  haunt 
for  bear.  It  was  in  there  in  fact,  that  the  old  Indian 
I  was  telling  you  about  this  morning  had  his  tussle 
with  the  bear  a  year  or  so*  ago,  and  which  came  so  near 
seeing  his  finish.  Then  that  glint  of  silver  way  up  on 
the  rim  of  the  ridge  in  that  depression  on  the  right  is 
the  Falls  of  the  Slick  Rock.  Years  ago,  long  before  the 
appearance  of  any  whites  here,  that  neighborhood  held 
a  special  significance  for  the  Indians  which  it  has  lost 
since.  You  see,  the  rush  of  waters  where  they  leave  the 
brow  for  their  wild  leap  and  bounds  down  the  gulch  has 
glazed  a  concave  half-circle  in  the  granite  as  smooth  and 
slippery  as  a  mirror.  It  was  a  custom  of  the  Indians  to 
bring  their  witches  here  for  trial,  male  and  female.  The 
ordeal  consisted  simply  of  the  passage  of  the  torrent.  If 
made  in  safety,  the  accused  stood  innocent  of  the  charge ; 
where  on  the  other  hand,  if  swept  over  the  brink  to  de 
struction  he  was  as  surely  guilty.  Thus,  if  you  were 
strong-limbed  and  cool  of  head  your  chance  of  life  was 
better  than  that  of  your  weaker  brother — which  is,  and 
has  been  since  the  days  of  Adam,  the  way  of  the  world. 
Might  is  right  to-day  much  as  it  was  then  in  spite  of 
many  fictions  to  the  contrary.  There's  a  pretty  stretch 
of  country  back  of  those  falls." 

It  was  while  rounding  the  base  of  the  cone  upon  our 
left  that  the  skies  became  overcast.  About  the  same 
time  the  air  grew  deliciously  cool  and  still  as  if  the  spirit 
of  the  legend  was  abroad  breathing  in  long  and  regular 
pulsations  through  the  forest.  Where  there  was  the 
sound  of  dripping  water  among  the  gray,  mossed  boul 
ders  massed  in  the  dusk  of  the  ascending  ravines,  the 
overarching  foliage  of  the  ash  and  buttonwoods  stood 
bright  against  the  deeper  green  of  the  background  of 

31 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

mountain,  where  the  outlines  each  moment  grew  less 
and  less  distinct  in  the  shadow  of  the  brewing  storm 
and  the  fast-declining  day.  To  the  far  north  above 
a  low-lying,  sun-showered  ridge,  a  band  of  clear  was 
visible  piled  high  here  and  there  with  dun-edged  cloud, 
whose  fading  radiance  became  the  measure  to  us  of  the 
sun's  declination.  From  thence,  also,  a  little  later  came 
a  murmur  which  I  at  first  asserted  was  the  softened 
roar  of  the  Fork,  but  which  the  rest  of  the  party,  better 
schooled  in  the  signs  and  sounds  of  the  mountains,  said 
was  the  long-drawn  soughing  of  the  wind  on  its  way 
down  the  canyon ;  and  that  they  were  right  I  was  forced 
to  concede  when  shortly  after  distant  mutterings  of 
thunder  followed. 

In  less  than  fifteen  minutes  the  storm  broke  upon  us 
in  all  its  fury,  preceded  by  a  cloud  of  dust  and  pollen, 
and  twisted  and  tortured  the  bowing  forest  until  it 
moaned  in  very  protest.  Cones  and  branches  splintered 
and  crashed  among  the  trees,  and  travel  beneath  them 
assumed  a  fresh  feature — that  of  actual  danger.  Dur 
ing  the  half-hour  of  the  duration  of  this  preliminary 
gale  we  made  but  little  headway.  Then  followed  a 
dead  calm,  through  which  we  a  moment  later  heard 
the  patter  of  the  approaching  shower,  accompanied  by 
a  louder,  intermittent  roll  of  thunder,  in  the  wake  of 
a  zig-zag  of  lightning.  Ballard  and  Stayton  hastily 
clambered  under  cover  as  the  great  raindrops  began  to 
fall  about  us.  snipping  up  little  cloudlets  of  dust,  and 
beating  to  earth  in  a  pungent  odor  the  mist  of  powd 
ered  balsam  which  had  hung  among  the  pines  since  the 
last  cleansing  rain. 

In  my  life,  short,  and  only  half-run  as  lives  go,  yet 
crowded  with  experiences  much  above  the  ordinary,  I 

32 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

have  been  through  many  storms.  But  for  true  sub 
limity  I  have  never  met  with  one  to  equal  this.  Dark 
ness  overtook  us  while  yet  a  mile  from  our  destination, 
a  darkness  that  was  opaque  in  its  intensity.  Here  the 
first  of  Silas's  little  fore-thoughts  came  into  play  in  the 
shape  of  a  candle-lantern.  Its  gleam  in  the  depths  of 
that  vast  forest  was  faint  and  insignificant  indeed;  just 
as,  I  often  feel,  the  individual  life  we  all  cherish  so 
highly,  must  appear  to  God  as  he  gazes  out  from  his 
height  into  the  depths  of  this  world  of  his  creating; 
but  it  served  as  a  beacon  to  be  followed  slowly  and  care 
fully. 

But  it  was  the  spectacular  play  of  the  lightning  fol 
lowing  the  first  downpour,  and  which  lit  up  as  with  the 
light  of  day,  and  with  a  suddenness  and  recurrence  that 
was  blinding,  the  lofty  aisles  and  the  blended  outlines 
of  the  surrounding  heights,  which  enabled  us  to  cross 
in  safety  the  intervening  gullies  over  the  uncertain 
plank  bridging,  and  to  find  and  follow  the  blind  road 
which  led  to  the  descending  grade  from  which  we  had 
our  first  view  of  the  swirling  torrent  of  the  Fork,  the 
crumbling  bridge  that  spanned  it,  and,  in  the  dusk  be 
yond,  where  the  old  squaw  who  was  the  guardian  of 
the  place  had  her  abode,  the  flicker  of  a  candle  and  the 
warm  glow  of  a  hearth*  through  the  open  doorway  of 
a  cabin. 

Fifteen  minutes  and  all  thoughts  of  the  storm  and 
its  discomforts  were  almost  completely  banished  from 
our  minds.  Our  animals  in  the  meantime  had  been 
comfortably  stabled,  and  our  wagon  safely  backed  under 
the  cover  of  an  outhouse — two  circumstances  that  added 
greatly  to  our  enjoyment  of  the  evening.  In  the  vast 
fireplace  of  the  old,  deserted  cook-house  a  roaring  fire 

33 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

had  been  kindled,  and  by  it  Sutcliff  and  Ballard  pre 
pared  a  hasty  supper.  Later  the  quail  shot  that  day 
were  prepared  and  set  to  stewing  for  the  next  day's 
meals;  and  our  blankets  brought  out  and  spread  upon 
the  floor  preparatory  to  our  retiring. 

"  I  fear  you  will  find  your  bed  rather  a  hard  one," 
deprecated  Sutcliff,  as  squatted  upon  his  own  he  drew 
off  his  boots  in  the  dusk  of  the  subsiding  fire.  "  But 
to-morrow  you  shall  have  one  worthy  the  envy  of  the 
President  himself." 

Before  retiring  I  went  to  the  door  for  a  last  look 
out.  The  storm  had  spent  itself,  and  the  moon  peering 
over  the  eastern  ridge  poured  its  mellow  light  upon  a 
scene  that  for  calm  and  beauty  I  have  never  seen  sur 
passed.  A  few  light  clouds  still  hung  above,  while 
below,  in  the  uncertain  shift  of  light,  against  the  broken 
background  of  forest  shone  the  bleached  and  ruined 
roofs  of  the  old  mill  and  its  attendant  outhouses.  The 
skeleton-work  of  the  bridge  too,  stood  stark  and  ghost 
like  in  the  light.  To  the  south  the  rear-guard  of  the 
storm  was  retiring  back  to  the  summits  with  a  diminish 
ing  pyrotechnical  display  and  muttering  of  heaven's  ar 
tillery.  All  nature  was  assuming  its  ordinary  aspect  of 
peace  and  quiet.  I  glanced  toward  the  cabin  of  the  old 
squaw.  There,  too,  all  was  silent.  Its  lights  were  out. 


34 


CHAPTER  IV. 


AT    THE    SHAKE-MAKERS    CLEARING. THE    HALF-BREED. 


THE  next  morning  our  course  led  up  the  eastern 
bank  of  the  Fork  a  little  short  of  half  a  mile,  where  it 
struck  up  the  mountain  for  Gray's  over  one  of  the 
most  fatiguing  trails  in  the  Sierra.  Knowing  the  ar 
duous  nature  of  the  climb  ahead,  Sutcliff  had  arranged 
to  make  it  in  the  early  morning  while  our  party  was 
fresh  from  a  night's  repose,  and  while  the  mountain 
side  lay  in  shadow. 

The  stars  were  still  discernible  here  and  there  as 
after  a  hasty  breakfast  we  packed  our  animals — we  had 
reached  the  limit  of  wagon-roads — and  took  up  this  trail. 
It  was  a  broad  and  open  one,  a  little-used  sled-road, 
climbing,  at  angles  that  made  one  hesitate,  up  and  over 
ridges,  and  along  slopes  clothed  in  manzanita  and  black- 
oak,  and  a  tangled  mat  of  a  brown,  resinous  tansy,  over 
which  old  Gray  occasionally  hauled  shakes  from  the  Lip. 
As  we  arose  the  scene  below  gradually  unfolded;  first 
the  dark,  cone-shaped  mountain  opposite,  its  apex  aglow 
with  the  fire  of  day ;  then  the  still  dusky  canyon  between, 
and  as  yet  uncertain  of  outline,  half  shrouded  in  shreds 
of  filmy  mist ;  and  lastly  the  far,  faint  levels  of  the  plains 
bathed  in  the  blending  glories  of  sunrise.  The  deep 

35 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

diapason  of  the  Fork  too,  which  throughout  the  night 
had  filled  the  throbbing  air  with  its  roar,  became  more 
and  more  defined,  until  as  gradually  it  was  lost  in  the 
distance  and  the  absorbent  music  of  the  day. 

We  had  barely  gotten  well  upon  our  way  when  Si, 
who  was  in  the  lead,  came  to  a  stand  to  critically  study 
the  ground  at  his  feet. 

"  Hey,  there ;  what's  the  trouble  now  ?  "  shouted  Sut- 
cliff  from  the  rear,  where  with  rifle  across  his  shoulder 
he  was  prodding  a  dilatory  pack-mule  with  a  fallen 
bramble. 

"  Thar's  someun  on  the  trail  ahead,"  returned  Si, 
pointing  to  a  foot-print  in  the  softened  soil. 

"  By  gum,  but  he's  an  early  bird,"  remarked  Sutcliff 
admiringly. 

"  He's  a  she,  "  corrected  Si. 

"  No.  Then  is  the  circumstance  only  the  more  remark 
able.  Who  can  the  nymph  be  ?  " 

But  Silas  was  again  silently  pushing  on  up  the  trail. 

At  the  expiration  of  a  little  more  than  an  hour  we 
came  to  the  bars  of  the  lower  pasture-gate,  where  we 
rested  for  a  few  moments  to  allow  our  animals  to  re 
gain  their  wind.  It  was  upon  this  bench  of  the 
mountain,  sloping  gently  from  above  us  to  the  point 
where  we  stood,  where  it  pitched  abruptly,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  the  Fork,  that  Gray's  was  situated,  only  more 
to  the  left  in  the  heart  of  the  clearing.  A  very  few 
minutes  now  sufficed  to  bring  us  in  full  view. 

The  first  golden  beams  of  the  rising  sun  slanted  upon 
the  scene,  .the  rough,  weather-beaten  log-house  out 
upon  the  open  point  where  it  overlooked  Heron  Valley 
far  below ;  the  steep-roofed  barn,  teeming  with  pigeon 
life,  its  massive,  lichened  eaves  near-touching  the 

36 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ground;  the  railed  upper-field,  green  with  rippling  tim 
othy,  where  the  points  of  the  pines,  walling  its  eastern 
bounds,  fell  in  long,  grey-blue  shadows  upon  it.  Seen 
from  our  point  of  view  in  the  shadow  of  the  forest,  where 
the  brown  mold  exhaled  an  inspiration  at  every  step, 
and  the  cream-bloom  of  the  deer-brush  hung  heavy  with 
the  weight  of  shimmering  raindrops,  it  was  as  charming 
a  picture  of  peace  and  beauty  as  my  eyes  had  rested 
upon  in  years. 

At  the  yard-gate,  a  rude  contrivance  hinged  to  a  mam 
moth  stump  upon  one  side,  we  came  to  a  halt.  A  thin 
column  of  smoke  ascended  leisurely  from  the  throat  of 
a  capacious  chimney,  to  mingle  with  the  crystal-clear 
air  of  the  mountains ;  while  a  square  in  neutral  tint  upon 
the  shadowed  front  of  the  cabin  told  of  an  open  door 
way, — still  further  proof  that  the  family  was  up  and 
around. 

In  response  to  a  shout  from  Sutcliff  a  savage  dog 
charged  us,  bounding  back  and  forth  on  the  inner  side 
of  the  enclosure  and  evidently  eager  to  tear  us  limb  from 
limb.  We  quite  properly,  I  thought,  hesitated,  and  Sut 
cliff  even  loosened  his  revolver  in  its  holster.  The  brute's 
spiteful  snarls  apparently  jarred  unpleasantly  also  upon 
the  nervous  system  of  a  thin,  ridgy  sow,  which  until 
then  had  lain  at  easy  length  in  the  warm  sunshine 
beset  by  a  half-score  of  pigs  of  conflicting  ages,  but 
which  now  arose  with  disquieted  grunts  and  swung 
around  the  fence  into  the  brush  of  the  canyon,  the  litter 
at  her  heels  following  with  high-pitched  squeals  of 
protest  at  the  untimely  interruption. 

There  came  to  us  the  murmur  of  voices  in  consulta 
tion,  and  the  grating  of  stools  upon  the  house-floor. 
Then  through  the  rear  door-opening  the  head  of  a  man 

37 

2t\-%  O 
oJLUJLy 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

verging  on  four-score  years  protruded  in  reconnaissance. 
At  the  sight  of  us  a  small,  driedup  body  followed;  to 
gether  taking  up  a  position  on  the  doorstep  in  the  light 
of  the  sun. 

Now  right  back  of  the  house,  or  rather  what  was  one 
side  of  it,  a  little  stream  of  water,  led  in  a  miniature 
flume  from  the  fir-dusk  of  the  canyon  back  of  the  tim 
othy-field,  spread  over  the  ground,  moistening  a  rod  of 
wild,  pannicled  grasses  interspersed  with  shoulder-high, 
blue-spiked  lupins,  and  a  scattering  of  flame-hued  pop 
pies.  It  was  against  this  picturesque  background,  and  a 
further  one  of  wooded  ridge,  that  the  weazened  figure 
of  the  old  man  stood,  clothed  in  a  greasy  suit  of  brown 
jeans,  his  bare  feet  encased  in  slippers  down  at  the  heels, 
the  snow-white  of  his  beard  and  hair  markedly  contrast 
ing  a  visage  indescribably  furrowed  by  a  long  life  of 
hardship,  and  set  with  dim,  bleared  eyes,  now  turned 
upon  us  in  a  stare  that  was  half-imbecile,  I  thought. 

"How  do  ye  do,  sir?"  accosted  Ballard  in  the  tones 
of  ordinary  speech. 

Sutcliff  laughed. 

"  You'll  have  to  limber  up,  Craig,"  he  explained.  "  The 
old  fellow's  grown  as  deaf  as  the  logs  of  his  hut  with 
in  the  year." 

Ballard  essayed  again. 

"  Hello,  there,  old  man,"  he  now  shouted  in  tones 
that  made  the  clearing  ring,  "  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Back  there,  you  rascal,"  the  old  man  returned  with 
a  startling  irrelevancy,  and  paying,  as  was  expected, 
no  heed  to  our  words.  "  Back,  I  tell  you." 

He  stepped  down  among  the  unheeding  fowls  of  the 
yard,  seized  a  convenient  fence-picket  and  started  in  a 
feeble  pursuit  of  the  brute ;  which  hied  him  under  the 

38 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

house  in  fear,  later  appearing  on  the  other  side  to  main 
tain  a  desultory  show  of  hostility. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  deprecatingly,  "  this  dog 
which  meets  you  with  snarls  and  bites  is  none  of  mine. 
He  is  my  son's.  I  have  nothing  but  will  meet  you, 
like  myself,  with  the  heartiest  good-fellowship.  This  is 
as  it  behooves  a  man  to  be  who  is  at  peace  with  all  the 
world  and  its  Creator.  But,  gentlemen,  you  are  early. 
I  was  told  to  expect  you,  but  you  are  early." 

He  held  the  gate  open  for  us,  scrutinizing  each  of  us 
closely  as  we  filed  in. 

"  We'll  trouble  you  for  a  drink  of  water,  old  man," 
said  Sutcliff,  accompanying  his  words  with  a  gesture 
expressive  of  carrying  a  cup  to  his  lips,  a  sign  the  old 
man  seemed  to  understand,  for  he  entered  the  cabin  to  a 
moment  later  reappear  with  a  long-handled  dipper. 

Sutcliff  laid  a  hand  in  gentle  protest  upon  the  breast 
of  the  old  shake-maker  as  he  insisted  upon  showing  us 
the  way  to  the  spring. 

"No,  no;  we  know  the  way." 

Nevertheless  he  followed. 

At  the  spring  he  turned  to  me. 

"  You  are  early,  my  boy ;  and  yet  I  fear  you  are  too 
late,"  he  whined  in  the  high-keyed  voice  of  old  age, 
gazing  into  my  face  with  a  light  in  his  eyes  of  such 
intense  concentration  that  I  stood  transfixed  for  a  mo 
ment,  while  a  shiver  of  dread  passed  up  and  down  my 
spine. 

I  glanced  around,  and  noted  Sutcliff  touch  his  head 
significantly  with  his  fingers. 

None  of  us  were  athirst,  Sutcliff's  plea  being  a  sub 
terfuge  only  to  afford  us  an  opportunity  of  meeting  the 
old  man  of  the  mountain,  and  so  allay  a  growing  curios- 

39 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ity  on  the  part  of  several  of  us.  Nevertheless  we  made 
a  pretense  of  assuaging  one  at  the  spring,  where  the 
water  was  not  as  undenled  as  it  might  be ;  a  host  of 
water-spiders  skimming  its  surface  in  their  reckless, 
haphazard  way,  and  the  sedge  upon  its  bank  literally 
swarming  with  small,  green-coated  frogs  just  emerged 
from  the  short-clothes  of  the  tadpole. 

As  we  returned  to  the  cabin,  old  Gray  disappeared 
into  the  dusk  of  the  interior,  in  whose  uncertain  light  a 
middle-aged  squaw  in  red  stood  gazing  out  upon  us  over 
the  shoulder  of  a  man  of  perhaps  thirty  years  of  age, 
whose  lighter  complexion  spoke  of  an  admixture  of 
white  blood. 

Ballard  was  the  first  to  note  them. 

"  Hey,  there's  old  Jule,"  he  cried,  " — and  by  gum, 
Si,  it  was  her  you've  been  following  the  blessed  morn 
ing,  you  sly  old  fox.  And  that  half-breed  son  of  the 
old  guy  too.  Hello,  Joe." 

Half-reluctantly  the  half-breed  stepped  to  the  door  to 
return  our  greeting,  rather  surlily  I  thought. 

Ballard  approached  for  the  purpose  of  surrendering 
the  drinking-cup,  and  incidentally,  as  I  surmised  from 
his  air  of  feigned  indifference  and  his  manner  of  whist 
ling  lowly  to  himself,  of  obtaining  a  closer  view  of 
the  interior  and  its  contents. 

Now,  I  remember  the  circumstance  with  a  smile  al 
ways,  in  the  shelter  of  the  doorway  a  large,  tawny 
house-cat  lay  sunning  herself,  comfortably  crouched, 
and  with  her  eyes  closed  in  feline  meditation.  Dis 
turbed  suddenly  from  behind  by  a  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  squaw  and  seeing  a  stranger,  followed  by  a 
half-grown  and  inquisitive  sheep-dog,  within  an  arm's 
length  at  the  moment  of  such  interruption,  she  arose 

40 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

with  the  agility  of  a  lynx,  swept  the  floor  for  a  moment 
with  her  tail,  and  gave  other  tokens  of  her  unfriend 
liness.  But  Ballard  was  too  preoccupied  to  note,  and  my 
cry  of  warning  came  too  late.  The  animal  sprang  upon 
him  with  outstretched  claws.  Utterly  astounded  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  attack,  Ballard  staggered  back  with 
an  imprecation  and  a  howl  of  pain.  The  squaw  tittered 
audibly,  and  the  ill-favored  visage  of  the  half-breed 
broadened  with  a  grin.  Even,  as  the  truth  must  be  told, 
among  ourselves  we  found  it  quite  impossible  to  re 
strain  a  smile.  In  an  instant  the  spitting  feline  had 
sprung  to  cover,  followed  closely  by  a  billet  of  wood 
hurled  by  the  now  thoroughly  exasperated  Ballard.  Then 
followed  an  amusing  rain  of  expletives  as  he  gently 
rubbed  the  afflicted  part,  to  the  like  of  which  it  has  never 
been  my  lot  to  listen.  It  rose  and  it  fell ;  it  ceased  and  it 
was  resumed;  until  just  as  Sutcliff's  convulsive  peals 
ended  in  one  irrepressible  yell  of  delight  he  came  to  a 
pause  with  the  same  abruptness  and  cadence  he  might 
have  displayed  had  he  just  rounded  a  prayer  with  a  fer 
vent  amen.  He  then  picked  up  the  dipper  and  handed  it 
to  the  now  thoroughly  sobered  squaw. 

"  If  the  old  fellow  spoke  the  truth,  "  he  remarked,  limp 
ing  toward  us,  "  this  devil  too  must  be  the  son's.  " 

"Are  you  out  hunting? "  queried  the  half-breed  a  mo 
ment  later,  stepping  out  into  the  open,  and  in  better 
humor  evidently  at  the  sight  of  our  friend's  discomfiture. 

"  Well,  that's  hard  saying,"  returned  Sutcliff ,  to  whom 
the  remark  had  been  more  particularly  addressed.  "  Out 
for  a  good  time  at  any  rate.  Any  game  about  ?  " 

The  half-breed  shook  his  head. 

"  At  least  not  about  here,  "  he  added. 

"Where  then?" 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  About  the  Jackass  and  the  Squaw's  Teat,  they  say.  " 

"They?     Who?" 

"  Old  Chipo  for  one,  who  is  down  after  a  load  of 
stock  salt.  He  says  Carpenter's  men  killed  several  deer 
on  the  way  up.  " 

"  That's  news.  " 

"  But  you  know  the  law — .  " 

"  Oh,  we've  not  a  word  to  say  against  the  law,  Joe,  " 
returned  Sutcliff  easily. 

The  Indian  grinned. 

"  But  tell  me,  "  said  Sutcliff  suddenly,  as  if  with  the 
turn  the  conversation  had  taken  the  idea  had  just  come 
to  him,  "how  comes  it  in  a  region  like  this,  abounding 
as  it  does  with  such  ideal  cover,  that  the  game  is  so 
sparse  ?  " 

The  other  paused  for  just  a  moment  before  shrugging 
his  shoulders  in  what  seemed  to  me  a  feigned  indiffer 
ence  as  he  returned : — 

"Why  do  you  ask  me?" 

"  Would  you  care  to  hear  what  I  think  ?  " 

The  Indian  again  shrugged  his  shoulders,  with  the  air 
of  one  bored  by  the  turn  the  conversation  was  taking. 

"  That  the  game  is  simply  hunted  out  of  the  country.  " 

"  By  whom  ?  "  was  asked. 

"The  Indians,  of  course.    Who  else  should?" 

"  For  what  purpose  then  ?  " 

"  To  lessen  the  chance  of  discovery  of  the  lost  mine  of 
the  Mono  which  is  said  to  lie  about  here  somewhere.  " 

The  half-breed  sobered  instantly,  and  his  gaze  hung 
long  upon  our  features  with  an  earnestness  not  to  be  mis 
taken. 

"  So  you  too,  "  he  remarked  a  moment  later  resuming 

42 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

his  affected  indifference,  '' — so  you  too  are  being  misled 
by  this  nonsense.  " 

"  What  nonsense  ?  " 

"  Why  all  this  child's  talk  about  a  lost  mine.  " 

Sutcliff  chuckled  in  a  cynical  way  as  he  answered : — 

"  We  have  some  solid  basis  on  which  we  pin  our  faith.  " 

The  half-breed  echoed  the  words. 

I  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  We  have  some  of  the  rock,  you  see,  "  I  explained. 

He  now  eyed  me  intently  and  in  silence,  as  if  with  the 
words  I  had  assumed  a  new  interest  to  him. 

"  For  all  that, "  he  said  at  last,  turning  away  as  if  to 
close  the  conversation,  "  you  are  wrong.  How  about  the 
herders  and  vaqueros  ?  "  he  continued,  suddenly  turning 
about  again  with  a  renewed  interest. 

"  Why  should  they  be  molested,  "  returned  Sutcliff, 
"when  their  presence  relieves  you  of  half  of  your 
work?" 

"  You  are  sharp,"  interrupted  the  other  in  high  dis 
dain. 

"  That  in  the  first  place,"  continued  Sutcliff,  ignoring 
the  remark.  "  In  the  second  the  herder  as  a  usual  thing 
has  eyes  for  nothing  but  his  flock,  and  the  buckero  is  nar 
rowed  down  to  the  powers  of  his  mount.  But  the  hunter 
is  to  be  feared.  Lovers  of  nature  they  are  almost  with 
out  exception,  and  drink  in  all  there  is  of  beauty  about 
them.  He  can  tell  you  the  particular  species  of  a  tree 
as  far  as  his  eye  can  reach;  he  knows  every  curve  of 
ridge  and  ravine.  He  hears  every  forest  sound,  from 
the  chirp  of  bird  and  squirrel  to  the  deep  boom  of  stream 
and  fall.  To  him  the  fragrance  of  fir  and  flower  are  de 
lights  too  little  known  to  the  world.  He  is  the  man  to  be 


43 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

feared  at  every  step.  Hey,  there,  Ballard,  how  does  this 
peroration  strike  you  ?  " 

The  half-breed  turned  and  spoke  a  few  hasty  words 
in  their  native  tongue  to  the  scarlet-gowned  female,  she 
the  while  looking  out  upon  us  with  a  stolid  interest.  At 
the  same  moment  old  Gray  re-appeared,  to  invite  us  in  to 
breakfast, — an  invitation  we  declined  with  mixed  feelings 
as  can  very  well  be  imagined.  It  took  some  little  effort 
to  impress  him  with  the  fact  that  we  had  already  broken 
our  fast, — how  frugally  we  omitted  to  mention, — and  that 
we  intended  to  lunch  as  soon  as  we  reached  the  Deerhorn 
Meadows.  Seeing  us  inflexible  he  desisted ;  but  it  was 
with  such  a  look  of  disappointment  that  we  half  repented 
of  our  decision. 

While  we  were  re-adjusting  the  packs  preparatory  to 
again  taking  the  trail  the  old  man  grew  garrulous  and 
plied  us  with  questions,  relative  and  otherwise.  In  the 
short  time  of  our  visit  he  showed  himself,  beneath  an  ex 
terior  deceptive  in  the  extreme,  a  man  of  very  remarkable 
parts.  He  took  an  inordinate  interest  in  our  replies  it 
struck  me,  and  had  the  squaw  bring  out  an  old,  cracked 
slate  with  a  pencil  attached  by  a  string  that  he  might  the 
"better  understand  them,  our  verbal  ones  proving  an  in 
sufficient  means. 

As  for  the  half-breed,  he  was  an  interested  actor  in  the 
scene  throughout.  He  said  not  a  word  but  hung  about 
like  a  bird  of  ill  omen,  and  with  an  air  of  restlessness  he 
could  not  hide,  devouring  every  syllable  that  passed  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  group.  Nothing  escaped  him. 
And  when  on  the  other  hand  we  put  a  question  or  two 
relative  to  the  lost  mine,  more  out  of  an  idle  curiosity 
than  in  the  hope  of  learning  something  of  a  definite  or 
tangible  nature,  his  unrest,  I  thought,  assumed  positive 

44 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono, 

anxiety.  He  paced  back  and  forth  like  a  tiger  caged 
and  sought  by  every  surreptitious  means  at  his  command 
to  hasten  our  departure.  I  noted  that  his  strange  be 
havior  had  drawn  upon  him  the  observant  eye  of  Sutcliff 
also. 

But  the  mind  of  the  old  man  was  too  much  a  wreck, — if 
in  truth  he  ever  had  anything  not  purely  the  creation  of 
his  fantasy  to  offer.  Not  a  grain  was  there  of  practical 
information  for  us  to  gather.  In  the  medley  of  his  talk 
there  appeared  only  one  ever-recurrent  thought,  which 
shaped  itself  into  the  oft-repeated  "  too  late, — too  late.  " 

There  came  a  simple  smile  upon  his  features  as  we 
finally  bade  him  good-by.  With  me  he  seemed  to  be 
particularly  reluctant  to  part.  He  took  my  hand  again 
and  again  with  one  of  his,  patting  me  in  a  fatherly  way 
upon  the  shoulder  with  the  other.  With  an  effort  I 
broke  away  to  follow  my  companions  who  had  already 
started,  pursued,  I  felt  rather  than  saw,  by  a  look  of  the 
most  intense  longing,  and  the  piping  words  which 
haunted  me  for  months  after,  "  too  late, — too  late.  " 

Turning  some  little  distance  up  on  the  trail  for  one 
last  view  of  the  homestead  resting  so  quietly  below  in 
the  yellow  sunlight,  I  saw  him  about  to  enter  the  cabin, 
the  son  in  excited  expostulation  behind,  and  the  squaw, 
but  a  speck  of  red,  still  observing  us. 

"  There's  a  character  for  you,  "  said  Sutcliff  paren 
thetically,  as  he  opened  the  upper  pasture-gate  in  the 
green  dusk  of  the  conifer  woods. 

"  Do  you  figure  the  old  guy  knows  anything  of  the 
lost  mine  ?  "  asked  Ballard,  resting  upon  his  rifle  on  the 
upper  embankment  and  guiding  the  animals  into  the 
narrowing  grade,  which  here  took  a  sudden  turn. 

"  Not  unless  old  Wolupa  saw  fit  to  confide  in  him, — 

45 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

which,  knowing  the  Indian  nature  as  I  do,  I  very  much 
doubt.  " 

"  And  yet  it  may  be  so,  "  Roger  remarked.  "  That 
half-breed  to  me  has  the  air  of  one  hanging  about  in  the 
hope  of  hearing  something  to  put  him  on  the  right  scent.  " 

"  Or  of  putting  you  off,  "  added  Sutcliff  thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE;  DEERHORN  MEADOWS — THE  SIGNAL  FROM  THE  BUTTE. 


We  were  now  in  the  heart  of  those  immense  forests 
which  are  the  pride  of  the  Sierra, — a  labyrinth  of  lofty, 
pillared  aisles,  silent  as  those  of  a  vast  cathedral,  and 
heavy  with  the  breath  of  the  firs  and  the  subtler  incense 
of  a  thousand  flowers.  The  beauty  of  it  all  as  we  passed 
beneath, — the  magnificent  proportions  everywhere  pre 
vailing,  whether  in  rock,  tree  or  mountain;  the  infinite 
variety  of  coloring;  the  hushed,  memory-waking  music 
of  the  streams ;  and  above  all  the  peace  and  harmony 
pervading  every  feature,  stirred  me  deeply,  and  some 
how  I  gradually  came  to  a  more  comprehensible  and  de 
finite  conception  of  the  idea  of  an  omnipresent  God.  It 
is  only  in  the  silent  places  of  the  world  you  will  find 
that  this  becomes  possible. 

One  point  upon  that  trail  will  always  hold  a  special  in 
terest  for  me, — the  point  to  the  right  of  the  winding,  och- 
rous  road  where  I  had  my  first  view  of  a  Lambert  pine, — 
one  of  a  particularly  fine  group  rising  straight  to  heaven, 
a  mighty  shaft,  purple-scarred,  in  support  of  the  tasselled 
canopy  overhead.  I  stood,  a  pigmy,  in  silent  veneration 
beneath  it  for  many  moments,  my  eye  scaling  its  great 
height  foot  by  foot,  until  it  marked  the  penciled  branches 

47 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

against  the  blue  of  the  sunny  sky,  flecked  here  and  there 
with  a  light  cumulus  born  of  the  storm  of  the  evening 
before.  I  was  only  recalled  to  earth  by  a  shout  from  Bal- 
lard,  followed  by  the  request  to  come  on  by  the  members 
generally  of  our  party.  The  road  was  here  much  more 
gradual  in  ascent,  and  we  reached  the  Lip  with  no 
further  serious  inroads  upon  our  stock  of  breath.  Here 
we  had  our  first  view  of  the  Basin  proper. 

It  is  a  saucer-shaped  depression  on  the  broad  northern 
flank  of  Spirit  Mountain,  and  a  spot  replete  with  natural 
charm.  A  finer  stretch  of  conifer  forest  than  here  rears 
itself  in  a  beauty  bordering  on  the  divine,  is  certainly  no 
where  to  be  found.  From  its  central  depths  it  extends  in 
every  direction  in  dark  unbroken  sweeps  to  the  Lip,  which 
circles  with  a  charming  uniformity  to  the  right,  where 
through  a  narrow  gorge  the  Black  Laurel  drains  the  re 
gion  of  its  waters. 

One  feature  of  this  ideal  spot  is  sure  to  strike  one.  At 
a  casual  glance  it  will  seem  as  if  all  the  known  world  is 
comprised  in  its  deep-green  woods  and  the  immensity  of 
sky  overhead.  Only  from  one  point,  well  up  on  the  south 
ern  slope,  do  we  have  a  glimpse  of  something  more, — a 
vision  far  to  the  east,  framed  in  the  low  depression  of  the 
Gap,  of  misty  peaks  washed  in  in  the  faintest  of  ochres 
and  siennas,  checkered  with  passing  shadows  of  pale 
violet-grays.  The  ridge,  however,  which  all  around 
sweeps  with  such  a  charming  regularity  arises  abruptly 
in  the  south  in  the  crags  of  Spirit  Mountain,  and  on 
the  east  in  a  striking  Butte,  both  timbered  to  their  sum 
mits,  yet  presenting  bold,  scarred  fronts  to  the  north  and 
west  which  were  then  still  white  here  and  there  with 
the  enamel  of  winter  snows. 

Upon  the  borders  of  the  Deerhorn  Meadows  we  came 
48 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

upon  the  camp  of  the  Ferrals,  who  were  pasturing  a  band 
of  a  couple  of  thousand  sheep  in  the  Basin.  We  found 
it  tenantless.  Its  fire  had  burnt  down  to  a  thin  spiral 
of  blue  smoke,  and  set  somewhat  at  random  about  the 
sodden  ashes  we  found  their  various  camp  conveniences. 

Sutcliff  went  straight  and  lifted  the  lid  alternately  of 
the  dutch-oven  and  the  bean-pot,  to  gaze  approvingly 
upon  the  healthy  dough — just  reaching  the  point  of  bak 
ing, — in  the  one,  and  the  simmering,  savory  contents  of 
the  other. 

"  Those  Ferrals  are  boys  after  my  own  heart,  "  he  re 
marked  complacently,  replacing  the  lid  of  the  latter,  and 
standing  his  rifle  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  "  for  they 
profit  by  experience.  They  have  not  repeatedly  climbed 
that  trail  without  having  learnt  its  lesson." 

"  And  that  is  ?  "  I  laughed. 

"  That  you  can  not  do  it  without  working  up  an  abnor 
mal  appetite.  They  are  expecting  us  and  have  guarded 
against  surprise.  " 

While  we  assisted  in  unpacking  the  animals,  Sutcliff 
replenished  the  fire  with  an  armful  of  wood  of  the  proper 
size  for  immediate  coaling,  and  made  such  other  pre 
parations  as  the  baking  of  the  loaf  dictated.  The  wood 
was  damp  and  smoked  stubbornly,  but  by  dint  of  an  in 
dustrious  use  of  his  broad-brim  he  brought  it  to  life  and 
shortly  to  burn  merrily.  Then  he  foraged  the  camp  for  a 
plate,  which  he  heaped  with  the  steaming  beans,  and  ate 
with  such  evident  relish  standing  by  the  fire  that  we  felt 
the  pangs  of  hunger  within  us  increase  a  hundredfold 
within  a  moment  of  time. 

In  fact  the  strife  between  duty  and  inclination  as  re 
garded  Ballard  was  short-lived.  He  at  once  dropped  the 
work  he  was  completing  to  unearth  the  only  other  clean 

49 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

plate  the  camp  contained  at  the  moment,  and  was  soon 
assisting  Sutcliff  at  the  feast,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
fire.  I,  less  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  the  mountains, 
wavered  longer  between  my  sense  of  propriety  and  the 
cravings  of  nature.  But  the  humor  of  the  situation  was 
irresistible.  Seizing  a  skillet,  the  only  available  utensil, 
which  stood  handy,  I  ladled  a  generous  share  of  the  com 
pound  of  bacon,  onions  and  beans  into  it,  and  with  it  be 
tween  my  knees,  seated  upon  a  log  which  I  first  kicked  to 
the  fire,  I,  too,  became  a  happy  factor  in  the  scene. 

Roger  proved  himself  more  self-denying  and  persisted 
in  helping  Silas  with  the  packs.  There  was  no  earthly 
reason  for  supposing  that  Stayton,  was  less  hungry  than 
the  rest  of  us.  But  in  the  short  day  of  our  acquaintance 
I  had  already  seen  enough  to  have  me  conclude  that  many 
of  his  actions  were  deliberately  calculated  as  schoolings  to 
the  flesh ;  that  in  fact  much  of  his  deliberation  was  due  to 
no  other  cause.  With  an  exasperating  attention  to  the 
smallest  detail  he  completed  the  unpacking.  Unsaddling, 
he  first  solicitously  rubbed  down  the  perspiring  back  of 
each  animal  with  a  saddle-blanket  before  turning  it  out  in 
to  the  freedom  of  the  meadow.  The  last,  our  leader,  and 
a  mare  of  independent  nature,  he  staked  out  just  beyond 
the  entangling  reach  of  a  growth  of  willows.  He  was 
halfway  back  to  camp  when  on  a  sudden  he  returned  to 
reset  the  stake-pin,  having  decided  that  the  spot  was  too 
boggy,  and  the  grass  too  watery,  to  afford  anything  like 
the  measure  of  comfort  to  the  beast  he  was  looking  for. 

With  the  same  deliberation  of  manner  he  left  for 
the  creek  a  moment  later,  a  tin  cup  in  one  hand  and  our 
sooty  coffee-pot  in  the  other,  his  intention  being  to  fill 
the  latter  at  the  stream,  and  incidentally  to  rid  himself  of 
the  dust  which  so  plentifully  begrimed  his  visage  and 

50 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

clung  to  his  beard.  It  must  have  been,  as  Ballard  ex 
plained  laughingly,  a  "  dry-wash,"  or  something  near 
kin  to  one,  as  the  only  noticeable  change  in  his  appear 
ance  on  his  return,  as  he  placed  the  coffee-pot  upon  the 
coals  spread  for  the  purpose,  was  a  slightly  clearer  mark 
ing  to  the  lines  about  his  ears  and  the  corrugations  of  his 
neck,  showing  the  limit  of  encroachment  of  the  elusive 
element.  Giving  his  long,  sandy  beard  one  last  twist  with 
his  fingers  to  wring  the  moisture  from  it  in  a  scattering 
shower,  he  ran  his  hands  through  his  hair, — as  much  I 
thought  to  dry  them  as  to  bring  his  thin,  straggling 
wisps  into  some  semblance  of  order. 

We  did  not  pitch  our  tent  as  we  were  as  yet  unde 
cided  as  to  a  site  for  a  permanent  camp.  Nevertheless 
things  generally  were  unpacked  and  readjusted  and  put 
in  as  near  shipshape  as  was  possible  in  the  face  of  this 
indecision.  An  ovenful  of  biscuits  was  set  to  baking 
by  Sutcliff ;  and  a  potful  of  beans  to  boiling  by  Silas, — 
who  desired  a  mess,  he  said,  in  which  his  individual 
right  stood  less  in  dispute  than  it  did  to  the  one  he  had 
just  helped  dispose  of;  whereat  Ballard  expressed  sur 
prise  and  desired  to  be  informed  of  a  claim  that  could 
possibly  prove  more  valid  than  that  he  then  enjoyed,  in 
asmuch  as  possession  was  nine  out  of  any  hypothetical 
ten  points  of  the  law,  and  he  had  unquestionably  passed 
the  property  beyond  human  intervention.  Lastly  a 
spoonful  of  "  sour-dough  "  was  pilfered  from  the  Ferral 
stock  for  the  "  rising  "  of  our  own. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  various  preparations  that 
the  younger  Ferral  came  into  camp. 

"  Hello,  there,  Sut,  "  he  shouted  effusively,—"  hello, 
Roger, — hey,  there,  Craigie, — and,  as  I  live,  Stay  ton 
too, — well,  who'd  have  thought  of  meeting  such  a  bunch ! 

51 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

—how  are  you  all  ?  And  this,"  espying  me,  "  is  our 
expected  friend.  Glad  to  know  you,  and  hope  you  will 
have  a  jolly  good  time.  How  are  all  the  folks,  boys? 
I've  been  trying  for  an  hour  or  more,"  he  explained, 
rinsing  his  hands  in  an  inch  of  soapy  water  in  a  basin 
which  stood  in  a  levelled  spot  between  two  encircling 
roots,  first  having  stood  his  gun  against  a  tree,  "  to 
get  away,  but  the  sheep  are  uneasy  this  morning  and 
won't  bunch  worth  a  damn.  Faggerty  won't  have  a  dog 
about,  you  know,  which  does  not  improve  matters  any.  " 

"  Where  is  Faggerty  ?  "  queried  Sutcliff. 

"  Out  with  the  band.    He'll  be  in  shortly." 

"AndLen?" 

"  Oh,  he'll  be  in  shortly,  too.  He  took  his  rifle  early 
this  morning  for  a  run  to  the  Gap  to  see  how  the  feed 
stood,  "  Ferral  continued,  drying  himself  upon  a  towel 
much  in  need  of  a  laundering.  "  But  say,  Si,  how  were 
the  beans  ?  " 

Stayton  complained  dryly,  and  I  fear  not  without 
some  justice,  that  not  enough  had  fallen  to  his  share  to 
base  an  opinion  on  that  would  stand. 

Ferral  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  guess  they  were  all  right,"  with  a  glance  at  the 
empty  kettle.  "  We  killed  last  night  in  spite  of  the 
storm,"  referring  to  a  carcass  shrouded  in  a  wool-sack 
swinging  from  a  cross-arm  between  two  trees.  "And 
it  was  not  a  toothless  old  ewe  either,"  he  kept  on, 
laughing.  '  That  was  the  proper  thing  under  the  ad 
ministration  of  Carpenter  &  Co.,  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Pin-Cushion,"  with  a  meaning  wink  at  Roger  and 
Sutcliff,  "  but  under  the  reign  of  Ferral  &  Ferral  it  is 
different.  What  a  gay  old  time  we  had  that  summer 
though.  Faggerty  tells  me  their  camp  alone  used  up 

52 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

over  thirty  mutton  in  the  few  months  they  were  in  the 
mountains.  But  Faggerty  does  not  always  confine  him 
self  to  the  truth.  Either  that  or  he  and  Stamford  fed  all 
the  old  squaws  upon  the  Fork  that  summer. 

Rattling  on  at  this  gait  he  uncovered  the  juicy  wether, 
and  with  the  heavy  hunting-knife  which  he  took  from  his 
belt  severed  a  quarter  from  the  body;  hewing  with  the 
weapon  where  a  bone  interfered  as  efficaciously  as  if  it 
had  been  a  cleaver  made  for  the  purpose. 

It  must  have  been  about  eleven  o'clock  that  we  first 
noticed  the  fire.  I  remember  I  had  wandered  from  camp 
with  my  sketch-book  in  hand,  and  seated  at  the  foot  of 
an  immense  cedar  across  the  meadow  was  sketching  in 
the  forest-opening  and  the  sun  checkered  arcades  beyond : 
and  beyond  these,  the  over-topping  Butte,  still  some  miles 
in  the  distance  yet  overwhelmingly  impressive  in  its 
softened  grandeur.  When  I  first  looked  up  and  saw 
that  something  of  interest  was  taking  the  general  atten 
tion,  Len  Ferral  was  standing  by  my  side,  rifle  upon 
shoulder  and  a  brace  of  gray-squirrels  in  his  hand. 
Roger  was  making  his  way  from  camp,  followed  at  a 
little  distance  by  Sutcliff.  Further  back  stood  Ballard, 
and  in  camp  the  younger  Ferral  and  Silas.  All  eyes 
were  turned  in  one  direction.  Following  that  direction 
with  my  eye  I  saw  upon  the  apparently  inaccessible  crest 
of  the  Butte  a  column  of  smoke  arise  at  the  moment,  and 
slowly  spread  in  a  dense,  white  cloud  toward  the  shim 
mering  summits  of  Spirit  Mountain. 

Sutcliff  was  startled  I  could  plainly  see,  but  it  was  for 
a  moment  only.  A  life  of  years  in  the  mountains  had 
accustomed  him  to  surprises  of  every  kind,  and  it  took 
him  but  a  moment  to  regain  his  wonted  control  of  him 
self. 

53 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  After  all  what  is  there  so  remarkable  in  a  fire  in  the 
mountains  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing,  "  Roger  returned,  "  but  its  location, — and 
that  is  startling.  " 

"  I  wonder  who  could  have  lit  it,  "  mused  Len  Ferral 
quietly. 

"  That  is  hard  saying.  Perhaps  a  sheepman,  or  some 
herder,  "  said  Roger. 

But  Len  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  not,  "  he  said  in  his  composed  way. 

"And  why  not?" 

Sutcliff  turned  his  face  as  if  in  expectation  of  the  an 
swer. 

"  Because  I  have  just  returned  from  around  the  foot 
of  the  mountain.  There  is  not  the  sign  of  a  trail  there 
made  later  than  last  fall.  " 

"  Well,  that  settles  it  as  concerns  the  herder,"  con 
ceded  Sutcliff,  resuming  his  survey.  "  But  how  about 
the  sheepman  ?  " 

"  Do  not  understand  me  to  say  that  a  sheepman  did  not 
start  it,  "  returned  Len,  a  little  piqued  at  the  other's  brus- 
queness.  "  What  I  mean  is  that  the  ordinary  indications 
do  not  point  that  way.  At  least  he  did  not  climb  from 
this  side.  After  last  night's  rain  I  would  surely  have 
come  upon  his  trail.  As  it  is,  the  only  sign  of  life  I 
came  upon  was  the  hoof-print  of  a  burro,  which  seems 
to  have  wandered  in  through  the  Gap.  " 

Sutcliff  was  plainly  puzzled. 

"It  must  be  a  party  of  Indians  signalling  to  others  in 
the  hills,"  he  at  last  ventured  to  say. 

But  it  was  now  Waring's  turn  to  shake  his  head. 

"  Sutcliff,"  he  began,  with  such  unusual  seriousness 
in  his  voice  that  Sutcliff  eyed  him  from  top  to  toe,  to 

54 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

laugh  straight  in  his  face,  "  it  means  something  more.     A 
peculiar  sensation  I  have  at  my  heart  tells  me  so.  " 

"Your  heart  be  d — d.  It's  your  liver.  A  touch  of 
dyspepsia,  nothing  more.  Or  else — but  no,  you  do  not 
indulge.  Now,  had  it  been  Ballard  here  I  should  have 
had  no  trouble  in  explaining  it  away  as  the  effect  of  that 
jug  of  forty  rod  he  brought  away  with  him  yesterday 
from  Oro  Fino.  " 
"But  seriously — .  " 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  Sutcliff  asked,  turning  abruptly 
to  me,  still  seated  at  the  root  of  the  tree. 

Now,  strange  to  say,  wholly  unfamiliar  as  I  was  with 
the  life  of  the  mountains,  I  too  had  a  vague  feeling  pos 
sess  me  that  the  true  interpretation  of  the  scene  before 
us  lay  not  in  any  of  the  several  explanations  advanced.  It 
was  nothing  I  could  hope  to  prove  to  the  objective  sense; 
it  was  more  the  conviction  of  a  subtle  subconsciousness. 

"  At  the  risk  of  being  rated  a  dyspeptic  also,  "  I  re 
turned  with  a  smile,  "  I  must  stake  my  opinion  with  that 
of  Roger.  It  does  mean  something  more  I  am  sure.  " 

Something  in  the  quiet  yet  positive  nature  of  my 
reply  seemed  to  carry  weight.  Sutcliff  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  me  for  a  moment  in  a  profound  contemplation  of 
my  visage,  then  turned  away  with  a  puzzled  shake  of 
the  head. 

"  Come ;  there  is  but  one  way  of  solving  this  mystery,  " 
he  said  a  moment  later,   returning  to  where  we  stood, 
"  and  that  is  by  a  climb  of  the  mountain.     Do  you  feel 
yourself  able,  "  he  continued,  addressing  himself  particu 
larly  to  me,  and  with  a  vague  shadow  of  doubt  in  his 
voice,  "  to  undertake  the  climb  to  that  point  to-morrow  ?  " 
"  Why,  sure ;  I  am  in  perfect  health.  " 
Then  turning  to  Waring : — 

55 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  We  have  figured  on  an  ascent  of  Spirit  Mountain  all 
along,  "  he  said,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  toward  the  rug 
ged  peak.  "  Let's  include  a  climb  of  the  Butte ;  or  even, 
as  the  scheme  finds  favor  with  Carrington,  wholly  drop 
our  original  plan  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  deprecation  necessary,  "  returned  War 
ing  ;  "  the  idea  pleases  me  quite.  " 

"  Then  I  make  the  further  suggestion  that  from  here 
we  move  this  afternoon  to  the  Cherry-Creek  Meadows. 
They  are  nearer  the  mountain,  higher,  and  in  the  morning 
will  give  us  a  better  start." 

To  this  Waring  also  acquiesced. 

But  Len  demurred.  He  had,  he  said,  looked  forward 
to  an  evening  spent  in  camp  with  us,  and  he  would  not 
now  be  disappointed.  We  should  not  go. 

Sutcliff  hesitated.  But  the  advantage  of  the  two  miles 
in  the  morning  which  the  contemplated  move  would  bring 
us  was  not  to  be  lightly  lost.  He  was  quick  at  sugges 
tions. 

"  Why  not  let  Faggerty  run  his  band  up  there  this  af 
ternoon?  and  you  spend  the  night  with  us?  How  did 
you  find  the  feed  at  the  Gap  ?  " 

Ferral  shook  his  head. 

"  Short.  It  should  have  at  least  another  week's 
start.  " 

"  Then  let  it  be  as  I  suggest.  Otherwise  I  should 
have  advised  packing  up  and  moving  with  us.  " 

It  was  so  arranged  and  the  two  returned  to  camp  a 
few  moments  later,  leaving  me  to  work  out  my  sketch, 
with  Waring  to  bear  me  company. 

When  we,  too,  an  hour  later  returned  in  response  to  the 
younger  Ferral's  halloo  and  announcement  that  dinner 
was  ready,  we  found  that  Faggerty  had  put  in  an  appear- 

56 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ance,  and  was  at  the  moment  crouching  over  the  coals 
puffing  assiduously  at  his  briar-root,  which  he  had  just 
lit  with  a  fire-brand,  still  held  in  indecision  awaiting  the 
outcome  of  his  efforts  at  a  smoke.  We  found  also  that 
extensive  preparations  had  been  made  for  an  after-dinner 
target-shoot.  Such  an  array  of  ammunition,  of  calibre 
large  and  small,  I  had  never  seen  short  of  a  dealer's  em 
porium. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  a  man,  "  asked  the  younger 
Ferral,  squatted  at  his  meal,  a  daintily-browned  chop  be 
tween  his  fingers,  in  answer  to  a  comment  of  mine 
prompted  by  the  display,  "  who  comes  up  here  for  a  ten- 
day's  hunt  with  only  four  cartridges  to  his  name  ?  " 

"  Who  of  this  crowd  can  possibly  be  guilty  of  such 
shortsightedness  ?  "  I  laughed  as  I  took  my  place  at  the 
board. 

"  Why,  Si.  He  brought  his  everlasting  old  Sharp  all 
right,  but,  just  think,  only  four  cartridges.  " 

"  That  is  not  surprising,  coming  from  Si,  "  remarked 
Waring.  "  From  any  other  source  we  might  have  had 
grounds  for  anxiety." 

About  three  of  the  afternoon,  just  as  Faggerty  left  to 
intercept  his  band  as  it  broke  from  its  uncertain  nooning, 
we  resaddled,  packed  our  animals,  and  started  for  the 
meadow  which  lay  a  mile  and  a  half  further  up  in  the 
direction  of  the  low  saddle  between  the  two  mountains. 
It  was  a  favorite  pasture-ground  of  the  sheepmen  as  the 
surrounding  ridges  abounded  in  extensive  thickets  of 
cherry-brush,  interspersed  with  vetches,  peavines  and 
thimble-berry.  Owing  to  its  high  altitude  and  the  con 
sequent  earliness  of  the  season  there,  we  found  it  in  all 
its  vernal  beauty.  Not  a  hoof  had  been  there  that  year 
previous  to  our  coming. 

57 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Upon  our  arrival  there  the  time  passed  agreeably 
enough  in  preparations  for  the  morrow, — more  particu 
larly  in  the  cleaning  of  our  arms,  which  had  grown  dusty 
upon  the  hill-roads ;  in  reloading  emptied  cartridge-shells ; 
and  by  Ballard,  Sutcliff  and  myself  in  stripping  a  copse 
of  young  fir  of  its  tender,  fan-like  boughs,  and  spreading 
them  with  method,  and  a  knack  born  only  of  experience 
I  found  out,  beneath  our  blankets ;  the  same  when  com 
pleted  forming  a  bed,  the  virtues  of  which  are  not  to  be 
too  highly  lauded.  Then  after  an  early  supper  an  hour 
was  spent  in  curious  inquiry  about  the  forest.  The  sun, 
low  in  the  heavens,  shone  with  that  softened  glory  which 
is  peculiarly  our  own  upon  the  brushclad  slopes  and  their 
sentinel  pines  as  we  returned.  The  broad,  green  meadow 
with  its  boulder-strewn  confines  was  losing  outline  in  the 
falling  shadows  of  evening.  The  breeze  which  through 
out  the  day  had  vibrated  the  woods  into  paeans  of  soul- 
stirring  song  had  sometime  before  faded  away  in  a  long- 
sustained  morendo.  One  by  one  the  songs  of  the  birds  too 
became  hushed,  and  the  mountain  day  was  done. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


OUR  UNWELCOME  VISITOR. — A  STRANGE  DISCUSSION. 
THE  SEANCE  AND  ITS  OUTCOME. 


The  crowning  event  of  that  evening  I  will  not  soon 
forget. 

A  shade  of  ennui  had  become  apparent  in  the  manner 
of  our  leisurely  lounging  about  camp.  Waring,  stretched 
at  ease  upon  his  blankets,  was  poring  over  the  pages  of 
a  book;  yet  his  interest  in  it  was  not  such  but  that  both 
eye  and  ear  were  open  to  the  attractions  of  his  surround 
ings.  Silas  and  Len  were  out  on  the  meadow  looking 
after  the  horses  for  the  night;  and  to  the  rhythm  of  the 
driving  of  the  stake-pins  as  they  were  reset,  my  pencil 
came  to  move  in  unison  in  the  finishing  of  my  sketch  of 
the  morning.  Ballard,  the  younger  Ferral,  and  Sutcliff, 
squatted  upon  some  saddle-blankets,  were  deep  in  a  game 
of  cards.  But  Ferral  alone  showed  interest  in  the  game 
— perhaps  it  stood  in  his  favor, — an  occasional  word  only 
coming  from  the  lips  of  the  other  two.  Sutcliff  in  fact  wa& 
more  than  usually  abstracted  of  mood,  and  I  caught  him 
several  times,  while  the  cards  were  being  shuffled,  make 
a  half-turn  and  glance  over  his  shoulder  toward  the  Butte, 
where  the  mysterious  fire  of  the  day  twinkled  redly  in 
the  gathering  gray  of  the  night.  His  thoughts  to  all  ap- 

59 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

pearance  were  centred  there  rather  than  upon  his  playing. 
As  the  dusk  deepened  I  desisted  in  my  work  and  fell  to 
admiring  the  massiveness  of  several  sugar-pines  some  dis 
tance  away,  whose  tops  still  glowed  in  the  evening  light 
against  the  gray  of  the  eastern  sky  where  the  silver  disc 
of  the  full  moon  shone  in  the  low  depression  of  the  Gap. 

Then  suddenly  I  became  aware  of  a  sound  alien  to  any 
of  those  to  which  my  ear  had  become  attuned,  the  approach 
of  stealthy  footsteps.  At  the  same  moment  Sutcliff  looked 
up,  a  surprised  exclamation,  half  imprecation,  breaking 
from  him.  I  turned,  and  against  the  glow  of  the  west 
saw  silhouetted  the  form  of  a  man  approaching  through 
the  brush.  Sutcliff  had  already  recognized  him ;  for  me 
it  required  a  closer  approach  into  the  open  to  know  in  him 
the  half-breed  we  had  met  in  the  morning. 

"  Where,  under  the  shining  sun,  do  you  come  from  ?" 
asked  Sutcliff,  too  surprised  to  wholly  hide  the,  to  him, 
unwelcome  nature  of  the  visit. 

The  Indian  gave  some  explanation  about  night  having 
overtaken  him  on  his  return  from  a  jaunt  to  the  Chi- 
quita,  and  how,  in  his  haste  to  reach  the  Gray  clearing 
he  had  somehow  drifted  from  the  trail,  until  utterly  at 
sea  he  had  accidentally  come  upon  our  camp.  Unable  to 
understand  the  reason  of  his  coming  myself,  I  watched 
the  lines  of  Sutcliff's  countenance  for  some  ray  of  light 
it  might  afford  me,  and  I  saw  at  once  that  the  narration 
found  no  credence  with  him. 

"  Lost  be  damned,"  he  muttered  in  an  aside  to  me  a  mo 
ment  later.  "  It's  a  plagued  sight  easier  to  lose  old  Ling 
in  his  kitchen  than  one  of  these  fellows  in  the  mountains. 
Have  you  had  your  supper  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  the 
Indian. 

"  I'm  not  hungry,"  the  half-breed  answered  simply.  "  1 
always  carry  some  bread  and  jerky  with  me." 

60 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Nevertheless  Sutcliff  placed  before  him  the  remains  of 
our  supper,  and  upon  these  the  wanderer  fell  without  cere 
mony. 

A  few  moments  later  Faggerty  too  appeared,  having 
hovered  unseen  upon  the  flanks  of  his  charge  until,  with 
an  air  of  contented  repose,  it  had  settled  itself  for  the 
night  upon  a  ridge  about  a  mile  below  camp.  With  pipe 
in  mouth  and  the  half-blanket  of  brown  vicuna  held 
snugly  about  his  shoulders,  his  gray,  grizzled  beard  so 
completely  covering  his  face  as  barely  to  afford  space  for 
two  gray  and  very  bright  eyes,  and  a  red  and  somewhat 
bulbous  nose,  he  came  out  of  the  gloom  of  the  forest 
like  a  spectre  of  the  Sierra  and  took  up  a  position  by  the 
fire  in  silence. 

There  now  was  an  air  of  animation  about  camp  wholly 
wanting  a  few  moments  before.  We  settled  ourselves 
for  the  fuller  enjoyment  of  the  evening.  Logs  of  gene 
rous  proportions  were  heaped  in  great  quantities  upon 
the  fire ;  which  soon  flared  up  and  illumined  the  trunks 
of  the  surrounding  pines,  and  deepened  into  inkiness  the 
shadows  playing  among  and  above  them.  Then  Sutcliff 
passed  a  small  flask  of  some  choice  spirits  around,  and 
I  my  refilled  cigar-case. 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  conversation  was  of  a  light, 
bantering  nature,  in  which  the  younger  Ferral,  Ballard 
and  Sutcliff,  again  his  normal  self,  particularly  excelled, 
though  we  all  dipped  an  oar  occasionally.  Gradually, 
however,  the  various  threads  focused  themselves  almost 
as  if  guided  by  some  unseen  hand,  and,  of  all  subjects 
for  discussion  in  a  mountain  camp,  it  settled  upon  psy 
chology.  Psychology?  Well,  no.  Psychology  is  a 
science,  to  be  discussed  in  a  scientific  way.  Our  dis 
cussion  bordered  more  on  a  medley  as  very  few  of  us 

61 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

had  given  the  subject  even  the  most  cursory  attention, 
and  would  have  found  no  mention  here  but  for  the  fact 
that  it  led  up  to  the  one  event  of  the  evening  which  had 
relation  to  our  tale. 

For  a  few  moments  it  was  without  order  or  sequence, 
each  relating  his  ideas,  beliefs,  and  experiences  as 
suited  him  best.  Then  by  a  direct  question  Sutcliff  un 
consciously  restored  a  semblance  of  order. 

"What  do  you  know  of  the  soul,  Roger?"  he  asked 
during  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  and  with  a  smile 
of  skepticism  upon  his  lips. 

For  some  reason  Waring  was  looked  upon  by  all 
present  as  an  authority  on  the  subject,  possibly  because 
of  the  fervor  with  which  he  had  championed  the  cause. 

For  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  the  gathering  was 
doomed  to  disappointment. 

"  But  very  little,  to  be  frank,"  he  replied  rather  curtly, 
a  little  offended  I  thought  at  our  friend's  brusquerie 
and  evident  unbelief. 

"  Nevertheless,"  interrupted  Len  Ferral  with  a  quiet 
diplomacy,  "you  are  not  so  soulless  but  that  you  feel 
you  have  a  soul." 

:'  That's  just  it,"  Waring  was  moved  to  answer  with 
a  smile.  "  And  feeling  that  way  I  have  given  the  matter 
some  thought  and  hold  certain  theories  in  consequence." 

"  Come,  then,  let's  hear  them,"  again  suggested  Len, 
settling  himself  more  comfortably  for  the  better  enjoy 
ment  of  the  impending  discourse. 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind,  I'm  sure." 

Then  after  a  moment's  thought: — 

"  You  all  believe  in  the  Atomic  Theory  of  course  ?" 

We  all  did,  judging  from  the  general  affirmation  ex 
pressed. 

62 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  In  that  admission,  and  irrespective  of  whether  the 
atom  be  divisible  or  not,  you  are  conceding  the  first  pre 
mise  of  my  stand,  namely,  the  existence  of  matter  in 
a  form,  or  series  of  forms  rather,  other  than  that  to 
which  we  are  ordinarily  accustomed  to.  For  my  firm 
belief  is  that  soul  is  but  an  emanation  of  matter, — mat 
ter  of  a  nature  so  fine  as  to  be  invisible  to  the  human 
eye.  Now,  let  us  not  forget  that  the  moment  we  admit 
of  this  belief  we  are  leaving  the  purely  abstract  behind 
and  have  entered  the  realm  of  the  concrete.  For  matter 
is  matter  in  whatever  form  we  find  it,  and  concrete. 

"  I  will  go  a  step  further.  Not  only  do  I  believe  the 
soul,  coupled,  remember,  always  to  spirit  of  course,  the 
incomprehensible,  God-given  spark,  the  highest  quality 
of  the  triune  man,  to  be  etherealized  matter,  but  that  that 
matter  is  ceaselessly  etherealizing  further ;  that  it  retains 
the  human  form,  and — ." 

"  Why  that  ?  "  here  interrupted  Sutcliff. 

"  Because  throughout  the  realm  of  nature  I  recognize 
a  continuity  of  purpose.  Man's  form  is  not  the  result  of 
chance  but  the  result  of  law.  Nor  does  the  purpose  of 
his  creating  end  with  death." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that?  " 

"An  appeal  to  my  common  sense.  Step  out  into  the  open 
of  that  meadow  yonder  and  let  the  stars  answer  you. 
Standing  there  and  looking  upward,  can  you  for  a  mo 
ment  doubt  but  that  their  grand  mystery  will  some  day 
stand  revealed  to  you  and  me  and  all  the  world ;  and  more 
particularly  to  the  ardent  soul  panting  for  its  wisdom? 
I  for  one  have  a  greater  faith  in  God." 

"  But  matter  has  weight,"  suggested  Sutcliff,  giving 
the  argument  a  slight  turn. 

"And  so  has  the  soul,  so  has  of  necessity  everything 

63 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

that  is  created.  Did  I  not  just  say  that  we  have  entered 
the  field  of  the  concrete?  Those  very  atoms  if  they  ex 
ist  at  all  are  as  subject  to  weight  as  any  of  these 
mountains  by  which  we  are  surrounded." 

"  Do  you  mean  us  to  understand  that  the  soul  can  be 
weighed  ?  "  asked  the  younger  Ferral  in  open  wonder. 

"  I  do, — the  means  once  provided.  And  let  the  won 
der  be  not  that  it  weighs  so  little  but  that  it  weighs  so 
much.  Do  not  forget  that  it  is  not  so  very  long  ago 
that  the  idea  of  weighing  the  elements  was  scoffed  at. 
Yet  not  only  is  this  done  to-day  but  an  even  more  im 
ponderable  fluid  is  being  meted  and  curbed,  namely 
electricity." 

"  The  thing  sounds  absurd  just  the  same,"  remarked 
Ballard. 

"  Only  in  view  of  our  present  means  and  knowledge. 
Once  the  existence  of  the  soul  is  more  universally,  and 
I  may  add  more  intelligently,  acknowledged,  and  the 
attention  of  mankind  becomes  more  centred  upon  the 
subject,  I  have  every  faith  in  the  world  that  the  thing 
will  not  only  be  found  possible  but  that  it  will  be  done. 
The  great  trouble  is,  we  let  our  senses  too  often  play  us 
false.  We  forget  that  they  are  limited  in  their  ca 
pacities.  We  forget  that  everything  mundane  is  com 
parative,  no  matter  what  it  is.  That  is  an  unchange 
able  characteristic  of  the  finite.  We  forget — if  we 
think  at  all, — that  there  is  but  one  absolute  point  in  all 
the  world,  one  superlative  in  all  the  Universe,  God  him 
self.  Stop  to  reason.  What  means  an  inch,  a  foot,  a  mile, 
in  distance  that  has  no  end  ?  What  an  hour,  a  day,  a  year, 
in  an  eternity?  These  are  all  arbitrary  terms  born  of  man 
and  his  needs.  And  what  possible  conception  of  size 
and  weight  can  we  have  in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  as 

64 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

small  a  thing  as  a  flea  stands  intermediate  between  the 
largest  and  the  smallest  known  of  animal  life?  Ab 
solutely  nothing.  Just  so  in  this  matter.  The  animal- 
culae  brought  to  light  by  the  use  of  the  microscope,  and 
of  which  it  takes,  Heaven  only  knows,  how  many  to 
make  a  point  discernible  to  the  naked  eye,  have  weight 
just  the  same  as  has  yonder  Butte,  though  both  are  be 
yond  our  present  means  of  intelligent  weighing." 

"  Do  you  know,"  I  interrupted,  carried  away  by  the 
plausibility  of  Waring's  argument,  and  for  the  moment 
obtaining  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  even  greater  possibilities, 
"  that  this  may  mean  that  the  future  could  to  some  ex 
tent  be  foretold  ?  " 

'''  The  Universe  is  as  God  made  it,  not  as  it  may  seem 
to  us.  As  I  have  said,  He  is  the  one  superlative  point, 
and  views  all  existence  at  a  glance.  He  is  all-permeat 
ing,  all-embracing.  For  Him  there  is  no  future,  as  there 
is  no  past ;  there  is  only,  as  Lytton  has  said,  "an  ever- 
present  now"  I  leave  it  to  your  good  sense  to  say 
whose  is  the  truer  view ;  man's,  lost  in  the  shadows  of 
earth,  or  His,  from  the  pinnacle  overlooking  all  life? 
— whose  the  more  comprehensive  estimate,  ours,  lying, 
we  feel,  so  much  nearer  the  great  Fountain-head  of 
Wisdom,  or  the  barbarian's,  on  the  lowest  round  of  the 
human  ladder?  " 

There  was  profound  silence. 

"  What  then  are  we  to  understand  by  the  term 
future  ?  "  at  last  asked  Ferral  the  elder. 

"  I  do  not  go  far  astray,  I  think,  in  saying  that  the 
popular  idea  and  acceptance  of  the  word  is  the  unformed 
in  nature.  My  conception  is  somewhat  different.  The 
future  to  me  is  simply  that  portion  of  Creation, — and  in 
the  use  of  this  word  I  include  the  entire  Universe,  the 

65 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ordained  field  of  man, — not  yet  within  the  pales  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  individual.  The  moment  any  portion 
of  this  unknown  world  comes  within  the  range  of  our 
understanding,  it  becomes  what  is  known  to  us  as  the 
present,  the  past,  and  a  fact.  Now,  the  future,  that  is 
our  future,  is  as  much  a  fact  to  God  and,  in  proportion, 
to  the  higher  intelligences  as  the  present  is  to  us.  For 
as  we  grow  up  in  the  various  spheres  of  life,  we  become 
more  and  more  Godlike;  and  as  we  become  more  and 
more  Godlike  we  find  that  we  have  somehow  absorbed 
more  and  more  of  the  attributes  of  the  Most  High; 
among  others  these  of  all-permeation  and  the  all-encom 
passing.  And  the  fact  remains  that  while  we  are  so 
journing  here,  all  the  spirits  who  have  for  ages  past 
gone  before  are,  each  according  to  his  understanding, 
enjoying  the  light  of  His  presence  at  this  very  moment; 
proving,  I  hold,  that,  while  not  a  part  of  our  present, 
there  is  a  general  present  of  which  this  life  is 
part,  and,  which  is  because  of  this  connection  if  for  no 
other  reason,  a  fact.  You  understand?  And  it 
is,  let  me  add,  in  every  way  as  natural  a  life,  and  lies 
as  much  within  the  domain  of  natural  law  as  any  part 
of  that  life  now  within  our  grasp.  The  rugged  peak 
that  for  ages  raised  its  height  in  an  unknown  land 
existed  none  the  less  to  the  world  at  large  because  for 
a  time  it  lay  beyond  the  human  ken." 

"Why  then  are  the  lines  so  absolutely  drawn?" 
queried  Sutcliff  after  another  pause. 

"Are  they?  That  is  a  mooted  question  with  me.  I 
believe  it  rather  a  matter  dependent  upon  the  individual 
choice.  If  the  light  shines  for  you,  and  you  persist  in 
turning  your  back  upon  it,  whether  from  ignorance  or 
willfulness,  whose  fault  is  it  that  you  see  not  the  splendor 

66 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

of  the  sun.  God  courts  investigation;  he  does  not  pro 
trude  his  secrets  upon  us.  It  is  our  spirit  of  skepticism 
that  proves  the  obstruction  always.  We  look  too  much 
to  the  past  and  too  little  to  the  future." 

"  We  are  to  infer,  I  take  it,  that  the  line  of  demarca 
tion  you  allude  to  is  that  between  the  seen  and  the  un 
seen — at  death,  in  short?"  asked  Faggerty  with  a  ju 
dicial  air,  turning  to  Sutcliff. 

"Assuredly." 

"  That  is  but  the  limit  of  your  senses,  the  line  of  those 
who  have  eyes  yet  see  not,  and  have  ears  and  yet  hear 
not,  "  resumed  Waring.  "  Believe  me,  to  the  spiritually 
inclined  the  line  is  much  more  elastic,  varying  each  day 
in  fact  with  the  wisdom  gained.  Intelligence  and  love 
mark  the  boundary.  Faith  buoys  us  up  and  on;  and  to 
the  beauty,  to  the  content  of  heart  and  serenity  of  mind 
born  to  them  there  is  nothing  on  earth  to  compare." 

"  What  are  we  to  understand  by  the  expression  you 
have  just  used,  the  higher  intelligences?" 

"  The  souls  of  those  who  have  gone  before.  Under 
stand  my  conception  of  heaven  is  not  orthodox.  My 
idea  is  one  of  ceaseless  development  through  an  eter 
nity  of  time,  an  endless  perfecting  with  no  hope  of  ulti 
mate  perfection.  And  strange,  this  thought  is  the  great 
solace  of  my  life.  For  the  thought  that  the  time  will 
come,  however  remote  at  the  present  moment,  when  we 
will  have  absorbed  all  of  wisdom  there  is  about  us,  is 
abhorrent  to  me,  and  is  only  to  be  measured  in  its  hope 
lessness  by  the  one  of  annihilation.  I  enjoy  the  thought 
as  I  enjoy  naught  else,  that  there  is  always  something  to 
learn  ahead." 

"  But  if  human,  why  do  you  emphasize  by  calling  them 
'higher?'" 

67 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  Because  of  this.  The  one  thing  patent  to  all  on 
earth  is  growth,  first  material,  then  mental  and  moral, 
and  lastly  spiritual.  The  theory  of  evolution  is  based 
upon  it.  We  see  it  in  the  plant  and  animal  life  about 
us.  But  in  the  body,  the  material  that  is,  there  is  a  point 
where  the  development  ceases  and  disintegration  begins. 
Not  so  with  the  mind  and  soul.  The  old  adage  says  that 
we  are  never  too  old  to  learn.  Even  death  puts  no  bar. 
Here  again  we  have  the  law  of  continuity.  Mind  is  the 
kernel  within  the  soul  and  is  imperishable.  And  why? 
Because  it  is  the  home  of  the  spirit,  that  spark  of  living 
fire  breathed  into  us  at  birth  by  a  loving  God,  the  ego, 
which  as  it  expands  requires  a  cloak  less  and  less  ma 
terial." 

"  The  thought  is  certainly  elevating.  Then  you  must 
think  communion  with  the  dead  possible  ?  " 

"  To  some,  yes ;  depending  upon  the  stage  of  their 
mental,  and  their  moral  and  spiritual  activities,  particu 
larly  the  last.  This  has  been  proven  beyond  cavil.  Why 
not?  Thought  is  a  prepulsive  force  set  into  motion  by 
the  will,  which,  like  sound,  starts  the  lighter  waters  of 
the  ether  into  waves,  to  leave  an  impress  upon  natures 
attuned  in  unison,  and  intelligent  enough  to  interpret 
its  meaning.  I  believe  in  affinity  of  mind  as  well  as  of 
matter.  I  believe,  that  from  the  moment  mind  first 
worked  through  the  gross  material  to  the  point  of  self- 
consciousness  in  man,  it  forms  an  unbroken  chain 
throughout  the  Universe  with  the  present.  I  believe 
that  along  this  channel  comes  all  of  wisdom  that  is 
vouchsafed  us.  The  two  points — the  extremes, — are 
seemingly  irreconcilable  owing  to  a  great  disparity;  but 
there  is  one  point  upon  that  chain  where  the  difference 
is  not  so  marked.  That  point  is  death.  There  the  af- 

68 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

finity  is  closest.  And  that  has  always  been  the  point 
in  dispute." 

"  What  reason  have  you  for  your  claim  that  at  this 
point  the  change  is  slightest?"  asked  'Len  Ferral, 
poking  a  burning  log  absent-mindedly  with  his  heel, 
and  starting  a  glorious  shower  of  sparks  far  up  among 
the  interlacing  branches. 

"  Is  the  change  greatest  in  you  between  the  hours  of 
retiring  at  night  and  your  awakening  in  the  morning, 
or  between  the  days  of  your  childhood  and  old  age?  I 
repeat,  I  have  faith  in  the  Law  of  Continuity.  I  can 
not  believe  that  the  change  wrought  by  a  moment  of 
time — even  though  that  moment  marks  the  transition 
we  call  death, — is  so  radical  as  to  rob  us  of  all  means 
of  communicating  with  those  we  love  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Styx.  Growth  is  comparatively  slow,  as  is 
apparent  everywhere.  We  find  no  radical  deviation 
anywhere  in  nature.  I  maintain,  that  our  means  of  com 
munication  only  have  been  changed;  that  instead  of  the 
organs  of  speech  and  hearing,  and  our  sense  of  touch, 
we  are  forced  to  the  use  of  other  and  higher  means, 
less  understood  and,  therefore,  more  liable  to  misap 
prehension.  The  means  are  there,  however,  and  the 
gulf  is  to  be  bridged." 

"And  the  means   are —  ?  " 

"  The  use  of  the  higher  senses.  Man,  you  know,  is 
here  endowed  with  the  physical  or  objective  senses, 
supposed  to  be  five  in  number.  I  say  'supposed,'  be 
cause  it  is  a  matter  of  dispute  whether  man  is  not  pos 
sessed  of  more.  Personally  I  believe,  he  is,  but  they  are 
not  purely  objective.  We  may  well  call  them  the 
Transitional.  The  function  of  the  physical  sense  is  to 
receive  and  convey  to  the  mind  the  suggestions  and  im- 

69 


The  Lost  Mine  or  the  Mono. 

pressions  of  the  outer  world.  Now,  I  have  endeavored 
to  make  plain  that  the  absorption  of  the  wisdom  stored 
throughout  the  Universe  is  progressive,  just  as  it  is 
here  on  earth ;  and  for  the  absorption  of  these  higher 
truths,  which  is  wisdom,  and  for  the  intelligent  under 
standing  of  this  higher  life,  the  soul  is  equipped  with 
senses  peculiarly  its  own.  We  have  them  here  with  us 
in  the  so-called  subconscious  faculties.  We  are  aware 
of  their  existence  in  a  way,  but  hardly  as  actualities. 
Nevertheless,  they  are.  The  faculty  of  perception  which 
permits  you  to  see  the  truth  or  fallacy  of  a  proposition 
is  as  much  a  fact  as  is  the  sense  which  permits  you  to 
distinguish  form  and  color.  It  is  the  corresponding 
sense  of  the  soul.  In  its  highest  development  it  is  but 
a  step  removed  from  what  is  known  in  common  par 
lance  as  "second  sight "  or  clairvoyance.  Then  there  is 
that  supersensitive  sense  of  hearing  known  as  clair- 
audience.  And  who  of  us  at  some  time  or  other  has 
not  heard  of  or  met  with  the  high-strung  nature  lhat 
feels  the  approach  of  friend  or  foe  some  time  before  the 
actual  appearance?  These  are  simply  so  many  words 
sent  along  the  wires  I  speak  of  as  possible  of  establish 
ment.  Life  is  complex.  We  do  not  weigh  gold  as  we 
do  iron,  nor  diamonds  as  we  do  clay.  We  change  our 
method  to  accord  with  what  we  have  to  do.  Just  so 
must  we  do  throughout  life.  The  finer  the  truth  to  be 
received,  the  finer  must  be  the  instrument  to  receive  it." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  go  to  work  ?  That  is  the  next 
question." 

"  We  must  first  of  all  learn  to  acquire  a  faith  in  man's 
higher  destiny.  We  must  turn  toward  the  light.  We 
must  rid  ourselves  of  that  hardness  that  marks  the  man 
of  little  faith.  We  must  go  commune  with  nature  so 

70 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

that  her  magic  influence  may  work  its  charm.  We 
must  at  times  at  least  turn  away  from  the  things  of 
earth  to  those  on  higher  planes,  to  things  spiritual.  We 
must  seek  out  the  beauty  which  everywhere  prevails. 
We  must  do  everything  which  we  feel  will  conduce  to 
our  moral  elevation.  We  must  do  God's  bidding  in  all 
things,  be  they  large  or  small,  and  at  all  times ;  which 
simply  means,  as  Christ  taught,  do  your  duty.  Let  us 
not  go  to  church  but  two  hours  a  week,  but  let  us  bask 
in  His  presence  and  that  of  higher  things  twenty-four  in 
the  day." 

"  But,  man,  are  we  to  become  hermits  out  and  out  ?  " 
laughed  the  younger  Ferral. 

"  Not  at  all.  Nor  does  anything  I  have  said  imply 
this.  I  say,  enjoy  yourselves  here  upon  earth  by  every 
legitimate  means  at  your  command.  That  is  God's  wish 
or  else  he  had  not  put  you  here  and  filled  the  earth 
with  beauty.  But  let  it  be  legitimate,  by  which  I  mean 
in  accordance  with  the  Higher  Law.  And  believe  me 
that  in  following  out  this  course  you  are  only  preparing 
yourselves  for  a  fuller  appreciation  of  this  earth  life. 
Virtue  is  its  own  reward  always.  Any  apparent  in 
congruity  lies  simply  in  the  trouble  with  so  many  of 
us,  a  want  of  balance.  We  are  always  at  the  one  ex 
treme  or  the  other.  The  man  of  business  has  no  time 
but  for  the  chase  of  the  almighty  dollar;  the  man  of 
leisure  none  but  for  the  realization  of  his  dreams  of 
pleasure.  There  is  no  sphericity.  If  we  would  but  pre 
face  the  day  with  a  thought  to  consequences,  we  and 
the  world  would  be  much  better.  Less  of  wrong  would 
prevail,  and  less  of  remorse.  And  our  lives  would  round 
out  in  the  process." 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"And  what  is  your  idea  of  the  nature  of  this  life  ?  " 
asked  Len  after  a  short  pause. 

''  That  it  is  one  of  sensation  just  as  much  as  is 
this,  a  strict  continuance  of  it  in  fact,  but  with  all  of 
blatant  evil  and  wrong  eliminated.  Recall  to  mind  each 
of  you  the  moment  of  your  keenest  pleasure — I  am 
sadly  mistaking  if  you  do  not  find  it  to  have  been  one 
of  mental  or  moral  elation, — and  let  that  mark  for  you 
the  ebb  of  the  possibilities  of  the  life  beyond  death.  You 
have  but  to  desire  it  for  you  to  follow  there  any  trend 
toward  the  light  of  your  moral  or  mental  nature.  Our 
every  aspiration  toward  the  ideal  remains  the  same.  If 
you  find  pleasure  here  in  the  pursuance  of  a  branch  of 
art,  it  will  remain  with  you  to  continue  that  pleasure  in 
definitely  and  only  intensified  unnumbered  times,  in  the 
world  to  come.  If  you  admire  the  grace  pictured  in  the 
human  form,  that  appreciation  will  not  be  denied  you 
either.  With  the  lust  of  earth  cut  out,  the  emotion  with 
which  you  will  approach  the  subject  will  be  chastened 
into  one  bordering  on  reverence ;  the  emotion  Heine  can 
be  conceived  to  have  felt  when  he  rested  a  reverent 
hand  on  budding  womanhood  and  was  inspired  to  write, 
'Thou  art  like  a  flower.'  Perversion  there  is  impos 
sible.  That  is  due  to  the  double  polarity  of  life  on 
earth." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

'  This.  Who  of  us  at  some  moment  or  other  has  not 
felt  that  two  natures  possess  him? — the  one,  the  evil, 
tying  him  to  earth  and  its  grovelling;  the  other,  the 
good,  prompting  him  on  to  better  things,  and  whisper 
ing  of  the  limitless  possibilities  within  him?  That  is 
what  I  mean.  I  hold  that  the  body  is  a  battery  charged 
in  some  way,  and  attracted  and  influenced  by  the  other 

72 


TTie  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

and  greater  batteries  about  him  in  things  material,  and 
that  the  soul  is  another  and  finer  instrument,  attracting 
through  the  sentiments  to  the  higher  order  of  things. 
Between  these  contending  forces  we  vacillate;  what  we 
know  as  duty  calling  us  upon  the  one  side ;  that  more  at 
tractive  siren,  inclination,  beckoning  on  the  other.  Per 
version  is  the  consequence.  And  in  this  dual  nature  of 
our  lives  I  plainly  see  the  dove-tailing  which  connects 
our  life  upon  earth  with  that  beyond  our  present  sphere, 
— really,  I  believe,  one  and  the  same.  At  death  we  sever 
the  earthly  circuit;  its  bonds  no  longer  attract  us  except 
ing  in  so  far  as  the  soul  wills,  and  our  thoughts  and  de 
sires  forever  turn  upward  and  heavenward. 

"  Now,  understand  me  when  I  speak  of  the  severance 
of  the  ties  of  earth  I  mean  the  ties  material.  The  bond 
of  love  binding  soul  to  soul,  whether  inhabiting  the  body 
or  out  of  it,  still  holds,  for  that  is  a  tie  supernal. 
You  have  heard  about  true  marriages  being  made  in 
heaven  ?  Well,  here  is  where  they  come  in.  But  such 
bonds  are  not  necessarily  those  existing  between  sweet 
hearts,  or  man  and  wife.  The  love  of  a  parent  for  a  child, 
or  the  child  for  its  parent ;  or  the  love  of  a  brother  for  his 
sister,  or  a  sister  for  a  brother, — all  are  as  cogent.  These 
are  simply  so  many  variations,  eddies  you  might  liken 
them  to,  upon  the  bosom  of  that  great  current,  Love, 
which  makes  the  Universe  one  grand  whole,  and  along 
which  kindred  minds  may  hold  intercourse,  no  matter 
what  distance  lies  between. 

"  In  conclusion  let  me  say  that  this  is  but  a  mere  out 
line  I  am  giving  you.  There  are  many  little  incidental 
byplays  which  go  to  modify  the  conditions  I  am  essay 
ing  to  describe  for  you,  just  as  in  our  daily  life  much 
happens  to  disturb  the  even  tenor  of  the  ordained  course. 

73 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

But  they  prove  a  bar  to  the  novice  only;  the  adept 
brushes  them  aside  and  bares  the  string,  so  that  the  mel 
ody  he  would  play  rings  out  to  the  world  pure  and  clear." 

He  paused. 

"  It  certainly  is  a  wonderful  life,  this  of  ours,"  com 
mented  Len  with  a  sigh,  settling  himself  to  greater  com 
fort  against  the  bole  of  the  pine  against  which  he  re 
clined. 

"  There  is  another  mode  of  communication  open  to 
those  less  sensitively  organized,  "  Waring  continued  a 
moment  later.  "  I  mean  that  of  the  trance.  The  medium 
enters  at  will  into  a  trance  state  during  which  the  soul 
withdraws,  and  the  spirit  or  'control'  from  beyond  the 
borderland  desirous  of  communicating  with  earth  takes 
possession  of  the  thus  temporarily-vacated  body,  and 
through  the  use  of  the  everyday  organ  of  speech  makes 
his  or  her  wishes  known.  It  is  quite  a  common  means." 

"  So  I  understand.  But  tied  down  to  the  ranch  as  I 
am,  opportunity  has  never  been  offered  me  to  investi 
gate  upon  my  own  account,"  said  Len,  who  seemed 
greatly  interested  in  the  discussion. 

"  It  is  an  unsatisfactory  means,  I  should  say,"  I  inter 
rupted,  "  since  the  medium,  as  I  am  told,  carries  away 
no  impressions  of  the  after  life." 

"  True.  Or  they  are,  at  least,  very  dreamlike.  But, 
by  way  of  analogy,  what  impression  of  life  as  we  see  it 
can  a  babe  be  supposed  to  carry  with  it  after  a  so 
journ  here  of  an  hour  or  less?  It  takes  time  for  im 
pressions  to  grow  to  the  point  of  retention." 

"  Impressions  are  instantaneous." 

"  They  are  comprehensible  only  where  order  exists. 
And  order  exists  only  in  the  mind  capable  of  understand 
ing  the  principles  underlying  the  life  of  which  those  im 
pressions  are  a  part." 

74 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  But  you  seem  to  forget  that  there  is  still  a  differ 
ence,"  laughed  the  younger  Ferral.  "  We  are  not  babes." 

Waring  laughed. 

"  What  did  I  attempt  to  impress  upon  you  earlier  in 
my  argument?  That  things  mundane  are  comparative 
only.  The  mentally  matured  stage  upon  earth  is  the  in 
fantile  in  the  world  to  come." 

"  Have  you  had  experience  along  these  lines  ?  "  asked 
the  half-breed,  interested. 

"  I  have,"  returned  Waring  simply.  "  Several  times 
I  have  been  more  than  ordinarily  successful  in  results 
while  acting  the  role  of  a  medium." 

"And  here  I've  been  chumming  with  you  for  years 
without  the  least  intimation  that  your  inclinations  ran 
toward  this  outlandish  channel,  Roger,"  said  Sutcliff, 
with  serious  mien,  eyeing  our  friend  comprehensively. 

"  It  is  a  phase  of  my  life  I  say  but  very  little  about, 
knowing  the  popular  prejudice.  That  nearest  the  heart 
of  man  is  generally  more  or  less  in  the  nature  of  a  re 
ligion,  and  is  not  to  be  bared  to  the  jeering  eyes  of  the 
crowd." 

"  I  understand,"  I  returned.  "  You  might  then  have 
scruples  against  a  semi-public  display  of  your  powers. 
I  was  about  to  suggest  a  seance  in  camp.  The  con 
ditions  are  certainly  all  you  could  wish." 

Waring  hesitated,  and  for  a  moment  it  appeared  that 
a  refusal  was  in  order.  But  all  were  in  favor  of  the 
project,  one  half  for  the  diversion  it  would  bring,  the 
more  serious-minded  hoping  for  a  successful  issue  of 
the  experiment.  Waring  succumbed. 

By  a  motion  he  requested  the  hand  of  his  nearest 
neighbor  on  both  his  right  and  left,  by  a  further  signal 
signing  the  others  to  complete  the  chain  thus  begun. 

75 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

So  we  formed  a  ring  about  the  fire,  which  had  con 
siderably  abated  from  its  first  fiery  fury.  Even  the 
half-breed  was  persuaded  to  join,  though  somewhat 
against  his  will. 

As  I  have  said,  one  half  had  entered  into  the  game 
for  the  fun  that  was  to  ensue,  and  with  the  spirit  of 
mischief  uppermost,  and  this  spirit  manifested  itself 
quite  freely  in  the  earlier  stages  of  the  experiment.  But 
soon  the  serious  portion  of  us  affected  it,  and  a  hush 
of  expectancy  fell  upon  all.  For  a  few  moments  no 
result  followed,  and  we  were  nerving  ourselves  for 
the  disappointment  to  come  when  a  slight,  involuntary 
twitching  passed  from  the  one  to  the  other  of  us.  It 
was  very  like  a  light  battery  shock.  Others  in  quick 
succession  followed.  Turning  my  eyes  curiously  upon 
Waring  I  found  his  closed,  and  the  muscles  of  his  face 
working  convulsively. 

Suddenly  he  cast  the  hands  he  was  holding  from  him 
with  an  unintentional  violence,  rose  quickly  to  his  feet, 
and,  with  head  erect  and  hand  moving  in  imposing  ges 
ture, — two  traits  wholly  foreign  to  him, — he  poured 
forth  in  stentorian  tones,  and  in  a  language  unknown 
to  me,  a  volume  of  excoriating  invective  upon  the  half- 
breed.  For  several  minutes  this  continued,  each  moment 
growing  in  dramatic  power,  the  entire  party  of  us  firing 
with  the  terrible  strength  manifested  in  tone  and  move 
ment.  Then  he  suddenly  ceased,  trembled  spasmodi 
cally,  and  then  slowly  opened  his  eyes  like  one  just 
awakening  from  sleep. 

"  If  you  can  make  sense  of  that,"  he  remarked  quietly, 
pressing  his  eyelids  with  his  finger-tips  as  he  settled 
back  to  the  normal  man,  "you  can  do  more  than  I  can." 

There  was  a  surprised  silence  for  several  minutes; 

76 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

for  with  whatever  thought  we  had  each  approached  the 
incident  which  had  just  closed  so  strangely  and  unex 
pectedly,  there  now  prevailed  but  one  feeling,  and  that 
was  an  unshaken  faith  in  the  genuineness  of  it  all. 

As  usual  it  was  Sutcliff  who  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  It  is  a  lingo  beyond  me,"  he  remarked  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulder. 

"And  me,"  assented  the  younger  Ferral. 

"  What  did  you  make  of  it,  Faggerty  ?  "  asked  War 
ing,  turning  to  the  frowzled  herder  of  the  Ferrals. 

Squatted  by  the  fire,  his  knees  in  close  proximity  to 
his  bearded  chin,  his  fingers  tightly  interlocked  about 
his  ankles,  and  his  eyes  in  thought  upon  the  fire,  Faggerty 
was  smoking  with  more  than  his  usual  assiduity.  His 
ideas  of  life  had  just  been  disturbed  by  the  related  inci 
dent  to  their  very  foundations.  For  forty  years  he  had 
laughed  to  scorn  all  thoughts  of  a  life  beyond  this;  had 
worshipped  with  much  parade  at  the  shrine  of  the  ma 
terial,  and  more  particularly  at  the  shrines  of  two  gods 
of  his  own  erecting,  Burns  and  Ingersoll.  For  like  so 
many  of  the  thoughtless  he  had  caught  but  the  super 
ficial,  and  had  failed  to  discern  the  deep  spirituality 
breathing  in  the  works  of  at  least  the  former ;  it  being 
a  restriction  of  nature  that  a  man  can  grasp  but  so  much 
of  another's  nature  as  he  himself  possesses  and  can  re 
spond  to.  For  the  first  time  since  their  installation  they 
trembled  upon  their  pedestals.  He  smoked  on  oblivious 
of  the  question  that  had  been  put  to  him. 

But  a  repetition  of  the  appeal  awoke  him  to  his  sur 
roundings. 

"  Indian."  he  answered  laconically. 

I  learnt  on  later  inquiry  that  Faggerty  had  spent  many 
years  in  the  mountains,  and  mingling  much  with  the 

77 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Indians  on  the  Fork  as  well  as  elsewhere,  he  had  come 
to  be  master  of  their  language  to  quite  an  extent. 

"  Indian  ?  "  we  echoed  incredulously. 

"  Mono,"  he  affirmed  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  just  caught  enough,  boys,  of  the  pesky  palaver  to 
satisfy  me  that  I  am  right,"  he  explained  a  moment  later. 
"It  was  something  about  a  murder  committed  in  these 
mountains  years  ago.  But,  here;  where  is  the  half- 
breed?  Ask  him;  he  should  know." 

We  turned  in  a  body  to  the  point  in  the  circle  where  a 
moment  before  our  unwelcome  guest  had  stood. 

But  to  our  amazement  Joe  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


WE  CUMB  TO  THE  BUTTE. 


WHEN  I  awoke  the  next  morning  it  was  to  find  my 
ears  assailed  by  a  fearful  volley  of  oaths,  punctuated  at 
intervals  by  another  sound,  the  nature  of  which  in  my 
then  half-stupefied  state  of  mind  I  failed  to  recognize. 
Raising  my  head  I  found  the  day  just  breaking  and  a 
hush  upon  the  dusky  forest  that  is  simply  indescribable. 
Excepting  the  profaning  ones  mentioned  not  a  sound 
broke  in  upon  the  silence  but  the  faint,  distant  roar  of  the 
Black  Laurel,  which  filled  all  the  Basin  and  yet  seemed 
in  no  wise  to  impinge  upon  the  stillness.  I  found,  too, 
a  bright  fire  burning  where  only  the  red  embers  of  our 
campfire  had  lain  on  retiring  the  night  before,  and  that 
the  younger  Ferral  was  up  and  around.  More;  I  found 
that  the  string  of  expletives  came  from  him,  and  that 
he  was  most  oddly  occupied  in  kicking  the  only  coffee 
pot  the  camp  boasted  of  possessing  about  its  precincts. 

"Hello,  there,  Sam  Ferral,"  I  heard  Sutcliff  shout 
from  his  blankets,  intuitively  recognizing  the  danger 
threatening  his  camp-conveniences,  and  assuming  an  ex 
cited  sitting  posture,  "  are  you  gone  demented  ?  " 

The  interruption  was  most  timely.  With  one  last 
swing  of  the  foot — which  happily  missed  its  mark, — 

79 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Ferral  paused,  picked  up  the  object  of  his  assaults,  held 
it  up  on  a  level  with  his  eye,  and  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  What  a  fool  man  is  at  best,"  was  his  philosophic 
comment. 

"  What  on  earth  was  the  matter,  Sam  ?"  asked  Sut- 
cliff,  as  he  now  leisurely  drew  on  his  boots. 

"Matter?"  with  a  slight  return  of  his  ire.  "Why 
the  cussed  thing  toppled  over  just  as  the  water  was  at 
the  point  of  boiling.  Matter  enough  that,  eh  ?  " 

"  But  say,  Sam,"  spoke  up  Waring  with  an  exasper 
ating  sangfroid  from  another  part  of  camp,  where  he 
lay  snuggled  cosily  in  his  bed-clothes,  "  I'm  surprised 
at  you,  to  say  the  least.  A  man  with  your  experience 
ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  set  a  pot  on  the  apex 
of  a  pyramid  of  burning  sticks." 

"  Too  true,"  retorted  the  other.  "  But  do  we  always 
profit  by  experience?  Do  we  not  in  fact  tempt  fate  at 
every  turn?  Does  the  singed  moth  forever  shun  the 
candle?  Nay,  are  you  not  a  living  example  to  the  con 
trary  yourself?  But  a  short  year  ago  I  remember  Miss 
Rivers  giving  you  the  go-by,  when  you  were  heart 
broken,  and  lost  flesh;  and  here  on  your  return  from 
your  last  term  at  college  we  find  you  as  deeply  enmeshed 
as  ever." 

There  was  a  hearty  laugh  at  Waring's  expense  at  this. 
For  where  ordinarily  reticent  about  matters  affecting 
his  heart,  in  an  unguarded  moment  he  had  let  slip 
enough  of  a  strange  infatuation  that  possessed  him  for 
a  pretty  face  and  form  he  had  had  a  passing  glimpse 
of  on  a  crowded  street  of  the  City  for  the  boys  to  build 
surmises  on  that  came  perilously  near  the  truth. 

"  That  was  a  great  idea  of  Waring's  though,"  inter 
rupted  Len  Ferral  composedly  from  the  warmth  of  his 

80 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

blankets  some  moments  later,  his  fingers  interlocked  be 
neath  his  head.  "  I  mean  that  of  returning  for  another 
course.  He'll  be  a  civil  engineer  of  note  some  of  these 
days,  mark  my  word." 

"  He'll  never  be  a  civil  engineer  in  God's  green  world," 
affirmed  Sutcliff,  placing  the  refilled  coffee-pot  by  the 
fire.  "  He's  too  uncivil  by  half.  You've  never  had  him 
lay  it  out  to  you  like  a  Dutch  uncle  as  I  have  time  and 
again  or  you  had  not  erred  so  profoundly." 

"But  it  was  always  with  good  and  sufficient  reason, 
you  will  have  to  allow,"  laughed  Waring. 

"  Allow  hell !" 

''  The  thing  is,"  I  now  interrupted,  straining  my  eyes 
to  descry  if  possible  the  bird  across  the  meadow  which 
had  a  moment  before  suddenly  thrilled  the  morning  quiet 
with  a  strain  of  liquid  music, — "  the  thing  was  in  the 
carrying  out  of  your  idea,  Roger.  We  all  have  our  mo 
ments  of  inspiration,  but  how  few  of  us  ever  put  into 
practice  or  execution  the  brilliant  suggestions  which 
sometimes  attend  such  moments." 

"  I've  an  idea,"  broke  in  Sutcliff  as  he  deftly  turned 
a  flap-jack  over  the  fire,  "  that  it  is  time  to  rise  and  get 
ready  for  breakfast — an  idea,  while  not  brilliant,  I  hope 
to  see  you  put  into  execution." 

With  a  laugh  we  arose  and  lounged  over  the  fire  to 
warm  ourselves,  watching  with  pleased  eyes  the  pre 
parations  for  breakfast. 

"  Come,  you'll  find  soap  and  towel  down  by  the  creek. 
Off." 

"  This,"  I  remarked  a  moment  later,  again  hanging 
over  the  fire,  for  the  air  was  sharp  at  that  early  hour, 
and  rubbing  my  hands  up  and  down  my  trousers'  legs  in 
my  enjoyment,  "  this  is  living.  Somehow  we  folks  of 

81 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

the  City  hug  an  idea  that  the  country  simply  vegetates, 
where  the  truth  is  that  you  get  the  very  cream  of  life. 
Now,  yonder  tints  of  the  rising  sun  upon  the  mountain, 
— are  they  not  enough  to  please  the  eye  of  the  most  ex 
acting?  It  is  simply  grand,  with  that  dark  stretch  of 
slumbering  forest  at  its  foot." 

"And  is  there  not  a  charm  unspeakable,"  interrupted 
the  irrepressible  Sutcliff,  buttering  his  pan  for  another 
cake,  "even  in  Ballard's  snoring,  which  one  can  well 
imagine  would  be  lost  under  other  surroundings,  say  a 
room  ten  by  twelve?  Hey  there,  Craigie,  arise  in  your 
might  and  glory  and  come  to  grub." 

Ballard  now  appeared  yawning  cavernously,  with  hair 
unkempt  and  eyes  half  closed.  The  temptation  to  dally 
over  the  fire  was  not  to  be  withstood,  and  for  some  mo 
ments,  with  palms  open  to  the  blaze  and  legs  outstretched, 
he  dodged  the  rising  smoke,  now  wafted  to  every  point 
of  the  compass  in  turn  by  a  rising  breeze  from  the  Gap. 
Being  persuaded  to  perform  his  morning's  ablutions  too, 
he  soon  returned,  when  we  all  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

The  sun  was  just  coming  into  view  as  we  finished. 
Then  Waring  and  myself  went  out  into  the  meadow  to 
re-stake  the  horses,  leaving  Ballard  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  Sutcliff  and  the  younger  Ferral,  who  remained  behind 
to  "clean  up  camp."  On  our  return  we  found  all  in  read 
iness  for  the  start.  A  lunch  of  bread  and  canned  meats 
had  been  prepared  by  the  thoughtful  Silas,  and  the 
question  now  up  for  decison  was  that  of  the  distribution 
of  arms.  This,  however,  was  a  matter  quickly  settled. 

"  I  will  take  my  Winchester,"  said  SutclifF  as  he 
strapped  his  cartridge-belt  about  him  and  sheathed  the 
bowie  he  was  never  found  without ;  "a  deer  might  show 
up,  or,  who  knows,  a  bear.  By-the-way,  Ballard,  have 

82 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

you  ever  seen  a  grizzly  or  cinnamon  in  all  his  forest  glory, 
feeding,  say,  in  a  manzanita-thicket,  or  demoralizing  an 
ant-nest?  No?  Well,  dog  on  me,  if  we  don't  give  you 
the  chance  before  you  return  to  the  stultifying  influences 
of  that  cesspool  of  iniquity,  the  City.  You  just  follow 
us  some  day;  eh,  Waring?  We  will  very  likely  have  the 
opportunity  of  showing  you  some  of  the  footprints  he 
leaves  on'  the  sands  of  time,  if  not  a  sight  of  old  bruin 
himself,  before  the  day  is  over.  I  once  came  upon  one 
that  measured  fourteen  inches  across,  and  the  big  toe 
was  off  too.  Say,  talk  about  sport !  If  a  good  bear-hunt 
don't  take  the  cake  I  give  it  up.  Of  all  the  boys  about, 
I  think  Morrow  the  coolest  thing  at  the  business.  Here 
one  morning  three  years  ago  he  fell  in  unexpectedly 
with  a  whole  family  in  a  tamarack-grown  gulch  under 
the  Pin-Cushion.  Instead  of  taking  to  his  heels  as  any 
ordinary  man  would  have  done,  and  I  for  one  would  not 
have  blamed  him  were  it  not  for  the  suicide  of  the  move, 
Jack  gave  a  whistle  of  surprise  and  then  began  to  pump 
his  Winchester  like  the  very  Nick,  until  the  old  she-bear 
and  the  two  yearlings  were  done  for,  and  the  old  he-one 
had  taken  to  the  brush.  That  was  a  morning's  sport  for 
you.  Carpenter  just  delights  in  telling  the  story." 

Ballard  and  I  took  the  rifles  we  had  brought  with  us; 
Silas,  the  old  Sharp,  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  full  com 
plement  of  ammunition  which  the  evening  before  had  been 
the  subject  of  so  much  ironical  remark.  In  addition  to 
the  large  Colt's  revolver  he  always  carried,  Waring  con 
tented  himself  with  the  little  twenty-two,  as  it  was  light 
and  he  hoped  to  fall  in  with  a  covey  or  two  of  mountain 
quail  or  possibly  a  grouse  up  on  the  mountain. 

Faggerty  had  some  time  before  departed  into  the  forest 
to  intercept  his  band,  which  he  knew  would  break  camp 

83 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

early  and  work  up  in  our  direction, — we  could  in  fact  at 
the  moment  hear  the  distant  tinkling  of  the  leaders'  bells, 
— and  we  had  but  to  bid  adieu  to  our  friends,  the  Ferrals, 
when  we  stood  ready  for  the  start. 

The  choice  of  route  we  left  to  Sutcliff,  and  he  now  led 
straight  for  the  mountain.  This  necessitated  a  descent 
of  perhaps  half-a-mile  into  a  shadowy  canyon,  in  whose 
depths  we  crossed  a  stream,  the  banks  of  which  were 
dense  with  a  vegetation  almost  tropical  in  its  luxuriance. 
Then  our  ascent  began.  It  was  gradual  enough  at  first, 
lying  through  an  open  forest  scattered  with  low-lying 
thickets  of  snow-brush,  above  which  the  trunks  of  the 
pines  arose  in  innumerable  columns  in  support  of  the 
sun-kissed  canopy  overhead. 

We  moved  slowly,  Ballard  and  myself  a  little  in  the 
lead,  yet  taking  our  pace  from  Sutcliff  and  Waring,  who 
were  better  acquainted  with  the  arduous  nature  of  the 
work  ahead  and  were  guiding  us  accordingly. 

We  had  barely  travelled  a  mile  when  Ballard  came  to 
a  sudden  halt. 

"  See  there,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  turning  and  point 
ing  up  the  mountain-side. 

A  fine  buck  was  browsing  amongst  the  brush  barely  a 
hundred  paces  from  where  we  stood.  He  was  as  yet  un 
aware  of  our  advent  upon  the  scene  for  our  approach  had 
been  quiet,  and  what  little  air  was  astir  came  more  from 
our  right  and  wafted  all  scent  of  our  presence  away. 

Sutcliff's  eyes  sparkled  at  the  sight  and  his  fingers 
twitched  nervously  about  the  guard  of  his  rifle.  But  he 
was  too  much  the  sportsman  not  to  consider  the  shot  as 
individually  Ballard's  and  he  now  whispered  him : — 

"  Here's  the  chance  of  your  life,  Craig.  Take  a  good 
aim,  not  too  long,  mind  you,  fire,  and  he  is  yours.  Dog 

84 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

on  me  if  there  isn't  the  finest  antlers  I've  seen  in  years." 

Ballard  turned  and  raised  his  rifle.  But  what  was  it 
that  so  suddenly  possessed  him?  His  frame  began  to 
tremble  as  in  a  fit  of  ague,  and  the  muzzle  of  his  weapon 
vacillated  in  a  manner  that  was  remarkable  if  nothing 
more.  Try  as  he  would  he  seemed  unable  to  regain  con 
trol  of  himself.  Finally  in  sheer  despair  he  grounded  his 
rifle  and  turned  to  Sutcliff  with  features  ashy  pale,  and 
with  the  perspiration  exuding  from  every  pore. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  he  cried  in  desperation,  "you 
shoot,  Sutcliff." 

But  Sutcliff  was  in  the  midst  of  a  spasm  of  uncontrol 
lable  laughter,  and  before  he  could  recover  himself  suffi 
ciently  to  follow  the  request  the  buck  had  taken  the  alarm 
and  was  bounding  away  over  the  brush  and  through  the 
woods  at  his  best  speed,  so  that  the  parting  shot  he  gave 
him,  while  a  good  one,  had  no  other  effect  than  that  of  ac 
celerating  his  departure. 

Sutcliff  now  seated  himself  upon  a  rock  and,  with  rifle 
across  his  knees,  indulged  in  another  fit  of  laughing,  a  fit 
so  prolonged  and  hearty  that  from  ashen-pale  Ballard's 
face  turned  a  shame-faced  red. 

"  What  the  devil  was  the  matter,"  inquired  the  poor 
fellow.  "  I  swear  I  never  felt  that  way  before." 

"  No,  no ;  I  guess  not,"  laughed  Sutcliff,  stamping  his 
foot  in  his  glee,  " — no,  I  guess  not.  Why?  Because  you 
never  met  a  buck  before  among  his  natural  surroundings, 
boy.  Dog  on  me  if  I've  had  as  much  fun  in  a  year !  No, 
no,  Craigie.  If  ever  you  return  to  that  centre  of  fraud 
and  machination,  the  City,  tell  the  inquiring  public  that 
among  the  ailments  of  your  younger  days  you  once  had 
a  touch  of  buck-ague." 

We  resumed  our  way.  At  the  distance  of  about  three 

85  f 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

miles  from  our  point  of  starting  the  trail  grew  steep  and 
rugged.  The  straight  reddish-purple  trunks  of  the  sugar- 
pines  and  the  brownish-grey  of  the  firs,  between  which 
we  had  many  charming  foregrounds  presented  us  in  the 
sappy  greens  of  the  low  deciduous  growth,  still  retained 
their  magnificent  proportions,  but  the  ground  was  more 
broken,  the  streams  sang  in  sharper  keys,  and  tumbled 
boulders  began  to  strew  the  slopes  at  frequent  intervals. 
Wild  cherry  intertwined  the  snow-brush,  and  here  and 
there  a  phlox  or  lupin  gave  a  dash  of  color  to  the  green 
tangle  of  fern  and  wild  thyme  growing  among  the  rocks, 
or  carpeting  the  dim  trail  which  we  were  pursuing. 

A  change  in  vegetation  due  to  altitude  is  much  more 
quickly  to  be  observed  than  when  that  change  is  due  to 
difference  of  latitude  only.  In  other  words,  we  might 
pass  over  several  degrees  of  latitude  without  noting  the 
differences  in  the  flora  of  a  country  that  a  thousand  feet 
of  altitude  might  bring.  So,  when  after  half-an-hour 
more  of  climbing  we  came  to  another  bench,  an  even 
more  marked  change  became  apparent.  The  forest  scat 
tered,  and  the  trees  lost  in  size.  Boulders,  gray,  rounded, 
and  streaked  a  thousand  shades  of  tawny  browns  and 
yellows  by  the  percolation  of  the  waters  of  early  spring, 
strewed  our  path  on  every  side.  Scrub-oak  and  chinka 
pin,  graced  with  an  occasional  clump  of  blue-brush — 
another  of  that  extensive  family  the  so-called  California 
lilacs — choked  out  the  more  valuable  underbrush  of  the 
lower  levels. 

Here  I  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  our  little  party 
had  been  deserted  by  Silas,  how  far  back  on  the  trail  I 
had  no  way  of  telling.  It  proved,  however,  as  I  made 
the  desertion  known,  a  matter  of  unconcern  to  both  War 
ing  and  Sutcliff,  who  were  better  acquainted  with  the 
ways  of  this  human  oddity. 

86 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  Don't  waste  a  thought  upon  him,"  was  Waring's  lone 
comment,  as  he  was  about  to  resume  the  trail.  "  He  is 
no  tenderfoot." 

Here,  too,  a  moment  later  Sutcliff  came  upon  the  signs 
of  a  doe,  and  while  he  and  Ballard  went  reconnoitering, 
Waring  and  myself  continued  slowly  on  our  way. 

As  we  skirted  the  side  of  a  wooded  canyon  that  lay  a 
thousand  feet  below  us    and    re-echoed  to  the    subdued 
roaring  of  a  hidden  torrent,  and  while  clambering  over 
some  brush  which  opposed  our  way,  Waring's  mountain- 
trained  ear  caught  the  note  of  alarm  of  a  mountain-quail 
just  ahead.     Signing  me  to  silence  and  immobility  we 
awaited  its  appearance.     In  a  moment  we  were  greeted 
by  the  sight  of  the  mother-bird  in  the  lead  of  her  callow 
brood,  clucking  and  making  as  much  ado  as  could  well 
be,  the  male  bringing  up  the  rear.     The  ground  upon 
which  we  stood  was  the  disintegrated 'granite,  very  yield 
ing  beneath  the  feet,  and  I  found  it  necessary  to  cling 
with  one  hand  to  the   scrub-oak  in  the  clefts  of  some 
rocks  in  order  to  maintain  my  balance,  holding  my  rifle 
with  the  other.     In  the  attempt  to  secure  a  better  foot 
ing  beneath  him  prior  to  picking  off  the  male  bird,  the 
stones   beneath   Waring's    feet  gave    way;   the   mother- 
quail  gave  one  quick  note  of  alarm,  and  while  the  par 
ent-birds  took  swift  flight,  the  chicks  on  the  instant,  and 
as  if  by  magic,  disappeared  in  the  low-lying  brush. 

"  It  is  just  as  well  so,"  said  Waring  with  a  sigh  of 
relief.  "  It  was  really  too  interesting  a  sight  to  dis 
turb." 

Then  turning  and  pointing  down  the  canyon  he 
said : — 

"  It  was  in  here  that  we  came  upon  the  body  of  old 
Wohipa,  the  Indian;  that  is,  a  little  higfier  up,  just  under 

87 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

that  rock  you  see  projecting  there,  and  over  which  he 
seemed  to  have  been  hurled." 

We  now  clambered  through  an  opening  upon  our 
right,  and  having  regained  the  crest  once  more  fell  in 
with  Sutcliff  and  Ballard,  whose  reconnoitering  likewise 
had  been  in  vain. 

Rock  formations  now  became  the  dominant  feature 
of  the  landscape.  Our  path  lay  over  the  comparatively 
open  surface  of  a  ridge  or  rib  of  the  mountain  which 
led  clean  to  the  summit.  Where  the  sterile  soil  lay  in 
sufficient  depth  to  sustain  life  at  all,  it  generally  com 
prised  the  oak-brush  so  often  referred  to,  chinkapin, 
and  a  dwarfed  manzanita,  thickets  of  which  we  met  acres 
in  extent.  Here  and  there  a  bunch-grass  would  sparsely 
dot  the  white,  blinding  surface  of  the  open  stretches, 
varied  occasionally  by  the  addition  of  a  mariposa  lily,  a 
yellow  lupin,  or  a  rose-colored  fox-glove.  The  timber 
scattered  more  and  more,  and  its  now  gnarled  appear 
ance  spoke  eloquently  of  the  battle  for  a  bare  existence 
that  was  being  waged  here  through  the  centuries  with 
the  frost  geni  that  hover  about  the  mountain  throughout 
the  year.  The  wind  grew  cold  and  penetrating,  and 
chilled  me  to  the  bone.  And  as  for  the  silence,  ever 
growing  deeper  as  we  advanced,  it  here  reached  the  point 
of  savage  brooding,  and  its  effect  upon  the  general 
spirits  was  plainly  in  evidence,  for  not  even  Ballard  had 
a  word  to  say. 

It  was  now  about  ten  o'clock,  with  still  a  thousand 
feet  and  more  of  an  ascent  ahead  before  we  could  reach 
the  crest  and  the  burning  pine,  then  being  fanned  into 
living  flame  and  plainly  visible  from  our  point  of  obser 
vation.  Neither  Ballard  nor  myself  had  partaken  as 
heartily  of  breakfast  as  had  the  others  of  the  party  be- 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

cause  of  ignorance  of  what  lay  before  us,  and  of  the 
necessity  that  exists  of  laying  in  very  often  in  anticipa 
tion  of  an  appetite  as  of  appeasing  any  existing  one. 
This  fact,  coupled  with  the  bracing  atmosphere  we  were 
inhaling  and  the  strenuous  exercise  we  were  under 
going,  had  developed  in  us  a  ravenous  hunger,  whose 
incipiency  we  had  felt  already  some  miles  in  the  rear. 
We  now  made  our  wants  known. 

We  withdrew  to  a  copse  of  young  fir  in  a  depression 
on  our  right  where  a  little  meadow  disclosed  itself,  and 
here,  seated  upon  the  brown  carpet  of  needles,  we 
opened  the  lunches  and  fell  to  with  the  heartiest  gusto. 
A  very  few  minutes  sufficed  for  their  disappearance, 
when,  first  quaffing  of  an  icy  stream  that  gurgled  near, 
and  where  I  gathered  a  few  scarlet  columbines  among 
the  whitened  rocks,  we  once  more  stood  in  readiness, 
this  time  for  the  final  spurt. 

As  I  have  said,  the  greater  portion  of  our  way  so  far 
had  been  up  a  sinuous  rib  which  led  clear  to  the  sum 
mit  of  the  mountain.  But  our  further  progress  up  it 
at  this  point  was  debarred  by  a  sudden  increase  in  pitch 
bordering  on  the  perpendicular,  and  the  interposition 
of  a  rocky  surface,  hard  and  polished  as  a  mirror.  The 
only  feasible  route  visible  from  our  point  of  view  was 
up  the  moraine  in  which  we  found  ourselves.  And 
that,  to  say  the  least,  was  far  from  promising.  It 
seemed  about  equally  to  consist  of  brown  brush-oak  and 
loose  fragments  of  white  granite,  both  of  which  were 
lost  in  the  upper  reaches  in  drifts  of  glistening  snow. 
To  add  to  the  danger  this  debris  was  not  made  up  of 
the  rounded  boulders  which  hitherto  had  strewn  our 
path,  but  was  sharply  pointed  and  edged,  just  as  it  had 
slid  from  the  walls  on  either  side  when  it  became  de- 

89 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

tached  through  the  action  of  the  frost  or  some  other  ele 
mental  agency.  The  prospect  was  enough  to  dampen 
the  ardor  of  the  best  of  us. 

Yet  strange  to  say  such  was  not  the  effect  upon  us. 
On  the  contrary  we  felt  ourselves  buoyed  by  a  hope 
we  could  not  understand,  in  such  utter  disproportion 
was  it  to  the  task  we  had  in  hand. 

"  Courage,"  cried  Waring,  springing  forward,  rifle 
in  hand,  his  voice  ringing  with  an  unwonted  excitement 
and  his  eyes  aglow  with  a  strange  light,  '  — courage, 
boys.  We  do  not  return  until  our  feet  have  touched 
yonder  summit.  Follow  me:  I  will  show  you  a  way." 

It  is  said  that  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view. 
How  then  when  distance  fails  in  its  office  of  robing  the 
scene  in  gorgeous  hues,  as  in  this  case,  and  you  come 
face  to  face?  We  found  the  way  even  worse  beset  than 
we  had  anticipated.  Every  step  of  Waring's  forward 
I  expected  to  be  his  last  and  a  retour  inevitable.  But 
strangely  enough  every  step  forward,  whether  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left,  was  ever  the  right  one.  Was  he 
being  led  by  an  unerring  instinct,  or  by  some  unseen 
hand?  A  thousand  feet  thus  of  the  most  stupendous 
climbing,  over  obstacles  enough  to  discourage  the 
boldest,  and  we  gained  the  lower  edge  of  the  field  of 
snow.  Here  our  progress  again  became  comparatively 
easy  as  it  sustained  our  weight  with  ease.  A  few  mo 
ments  more  and,  worn  but  triumphant,  we  stood  upon 
the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  Butte. 


90 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE    ENCHANTED    NOOK    AND    ITS    TENANT. 


UPON  the  summit  we  dropped  our  arms  and  sank  ex 
hausted  upon  the  ground.  For  fully  five  minutes,  too 
occupied  in  our  momentary  discomfort  of  body,  not  a 
word  passed  between  us. 

But  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  Sutcliff  to  remain 
silent  long. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  questioned  as  he  sat  silhouetted  against 
the  blue  of  the  sky,  the  broad  brim  of  his  hat  hugging 
his  temple,  and  his  crimson  neckerchief  flying  in  the  wind. 
"What  do  you  think  of  it?  Vegetating?  Well,  I 
reckon  not.  There's  no  denying  one  thing,  however, 
whatever  other  thoughts  may  come,  and  that  is  that  it  is 
blamed  hot  work.  But  no  matter.  If  a  search  of 
health,  mountain  air,  and  scenery  has  brought  you  here, 
my  friends,  behold  them  in  exhaustless  supply  before 
you." 

It  was  indeed  so.  Charms  the  most  varied,  and,  there 
fore,  the  more  indescribable,  lay  around  us  in  a  superb 
panorama.  Far  below  to  the  west  stretched  the  dark 
sea  of  bristling  pine  which  that  morning  and  the  day 
before  we  had  traversed.  Beyond,  according  as  they 
were  near  or  far,  the  broken  ridges  of  the  foothills  arose 

91 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

in  shades  of  smoky  blue;  and  yet  further  away,  the 
smiling,  straw-tinted  plains — veins  of  the  palest  blue 
marking  their  wooded  streams, — stretching  far  to  the 
north  and  south;  and  to  the  west,  a  hundred  miles  as 
the  crow  flies,  to  where  a  dash  of  the  faintest  gray 
marked  the  hills  of  the  Pose,  the  Cantua,  and  the  two 
Panoches. 

To  the  east  the  scene  was  of  another  type  and  even 
more  imposing.  The  broad,  deep  canyon  of  the  Chi- 
quita  there  swept  down  in  a  dark,  majestic  curve  to 
where  the  titanic  walls  of  the  Kaiser  directed  it  into  the 
gorge  of  the  San  Joaquin.  In  the  haze  of  the  further 
distance  rose  the  serrated  peaks  of  the  Jackass,  and  the 
sublimer  Minarets.  But  I  fail  most  signally  to  describe. 

The  spot  upon  which  we  stood  was  a  very  wilderness 
of  granite  cut  into  many  fantastic  shapes  by  wind  and 
weather.  But  little  timber  stood  around  and  that  little 
was  much  gnarled  and  distorted.  One  of  these  monarchs, 
dishevelled,  and  blasted  years  before  by  a  lightning 
stroke,  stood  in  the  last  stages  of  decay.  The  largest 
there,  and  black  and  grim,  it  was  fast  being  consumed 
by  fire.  As  I  watched  it  I  saw  Sutcliff  beneath  its 
flaming  branches  reconnoitering,  but  I  felt  myself  too 
fatigued  at  the  moment  to  bear  him  immediate  company. 

But  a  hail  from  him  brought  us  instantly  to  our  feet. 

"  There  is  something  peculiar  about  this,"  he  explained 
on  our  approach.  "  This  tree  has  been  fired  intentionally 
and  with  the  express  view  of  attracting  attention. 
Whether  ours  or  not  I  can  not,  of  course,  say ;  but  some 
one's." 

"  What  makes  you  conclude  this  ?  "  asked  Ballard. 

"A  process  of  simple  reasoning.  For  instance  here 
are  impressions  made  by  feet  other  than  our  own.  And 

92 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

note,  they  come  from  a  certain  point  on  the  brow  of  the 
mountain,  and  return  as  directly  to  it.  There  has  been 
no  hesitation.  Now,  what  are  we  to  conclude  from  this 
simple  fact  but  that  the  party  came  for  a  fixed  purpose, 
that  purpose  to  fire  the  tree,  and  why  fire  the  tree  if  not 
to  attract  attention  ?  " 

"  Your  reasoning  is  good,"  returned  Waring,  serious 
ness  in  his  voice. 

"  The  question  remains,  whose  attention  was  it  he 
wished  to  attract  ?  " 

"  I  can  not  say,  of  course.  But  the  fact  as  indubitably 
remains  that  he  has  attracted  ours." 

Sutcliff  stood  in  deep  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Come,"  he  said  with  a  sudden  arousing,  "  there  is 
but  one  way  out  of  the  puzzle.  Let  us  follow  the  foot 
prints." 

He  shouldered  his  rifle  and  slowly  followed  the  im 
pressions  to  the  eastern  brow.  Here  he  paused. 

'  They  are  quite  fresh,"  he  remarked ;  "made  since  the 
storm." 

Then  he  began  the  descent.  It  was  by  no  means  as 
arduous  as  had  been  the  ascent  up  the  western  slope. 
Though  nearly  as  steep,  there  seemed  here  more  of  a 
natural  pathway;  often,  it  is  true,  leading  over  rocky 
faces  and  spurs  on  the  mountain,  where  the  trail  became 
labyrinthine  and  we  lost  the  guiding  impressions  for  the 
time,  always,  however,  to  come  upon  them  again  on 
the  softer  ground  that  invariably  opened  up  beyond. 

Halfway  down  Sutcliff  came  to  a  sudden  stop. 

"  Say,  am  I  mistaking,  or  is  there  the  slightest  pos 
sible  film  of  smoke  rising  from  that  timbered  bench  be 
low  us  ?  " 

We  gazed  intently. 

93 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  You  are  not,"  spoke  up  Waring.  "  There  certainly 
is  a  smoke  rising." 

"And  that  glimmer  of  blue  among  the  pines  ?  Dog 
on  me,  it's  a  lake.  There  must  be  someone  camped  there. 
Come  on,  boys,"  he  now  shouted,  wildly  bounding  down 
the  declivity  at  the  imminent  risk  of  a  broken  limb, 
followed  by  Ballard.  Waring  and  myself,  while  quite 
as  excited,  followed  with  greater  care.  In  a  very  few 
minutes  we  were  at  the  base  of  the  incline,  and  once 
there  we  looked  around. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  nooks  my  eyes  have 
ever  rested  upon,  comprising  a  flat  of  some  six  or  seven 
acres  in  the  shape  of  a  perfect  horseshoe  and  over 
shadowed  by  as  fine  a  forest  as  ever  stood,  in  the  cool 
of  whose  overhanging  branches  a  breeze  stirred  into  a 
gentle  and  seductive  life  a  luxuriant  tangle  of  ferns 
and  thimbleberry.  On  three  of  its  sides  arose  great 
granite  domes  whose  clefts,  and  the  miniature  canyons 
between,  also,  were  densely  wooded  with  the  pine,  the 
fir  and  the  aromatic  cedar.  On  the  fourth — the  straight 
side, — it  lost  itself  in  an  abrupt  drop  into  the  canyon 
of  the  Chiquita,  affording  there  a  vista  beyond  of  dis 
tant  peaks  in  gray  and  white  that  was  sublime. 

But  what  surprised  us  most  was  to  find  a  little  lake 
gemming  its  bosom. 

"  I  always  suspected  the  existence  of  such  a  body  in 
here  though  from  the  lay  of  the  country,"  said  Sutcliff, 
lost  in  admiration. 

It  was  but  shortly  past  the  hour  of  noon,  yet  the 
shadow  of  the  mountain  above  us  already  fell  across  the 
glade  in  slowly-lengthening  points.  In  another  half- 
hour  the  entire  place  would  lay  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
sunlight. 

94 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  Jove,  but  it's  a  pretty  spot,"  ejaculated  Sutcliff. 
"  But,  say,  where  did  that  smoke  come  from  we  saw 
from  above  ?  " 

An  interested  search  was  instituted,  and  our  surprise 
was  complete  when  after  a  short  quest  we  came  upon 
a  small  log-cabin  with  a  shake  roof,  an  open  doorway, 
and  with  a  pale  smoke  issuing  from  a  chimney  rudely 
built  of  sticks  and  stones,  at  the  foot  of  the  western 
dome,  where  a  little  stream  of  crystal  clearness  sang 
its  way  over  a  pebbly  bed. 

"  Is  the  place  haunted  do  you  think,"  exclaimed  Sut 
cliff  lightly  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  open  door,  where 
he  knocked  upon  the  sill  of  the  threshold. 

No  answer  came  from  within,  but  a  chipmunk  scur 
ried  by  us  with  a  chirp  of  affright  and  a  spasmodic  flip 
of  his  tail. 

"  May  we  enter  then  ?     Silence  gives  consent." 

Without  more  ado  he  entered  and  we  followed.  All 
was  dark  within.  But  a  sunbeam  entering  through  a 
chink  in  the  wall  showed  where  an  opening  had  been  cut 
for  the  double  purpose  of  letting  in  the  light  and  air. 
This  Sutcliff,  the  sense  of  mystery  growing  upon  his 
nerves,  hurriedly  opened,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  flood 
of  sunlight  that  entered  we  looked  around  us.  It  was 
a  chamber  that  was  not  larger  than  ten  by  twelve,  and 
a  fireplace,  in  which  a  cedar  log  lay  smoldering,  took 
up  one  entire  end.  A  table  stood  at  the  other,  and 
beneath  it  a  rough  bench.  By  the  side  opposite  the 
window  a  cot  had  been  constructed  and  upon  it  lay  a 
man, — dead,  as  the  pallor  and  rigidity  of  his  features 
denoted.  Yes,  dead ;  and  our  surprise  was  the  greater 
when  in  him  I  recognized  my  uncle,  and  Waring  the 
stranger  he  had  met  two  years  before  in  the  Flats. 

95 


CHAPTER  IX. 


ANOTHER  STRANGE  EPISODE.      WE  RETURN  TO  CAMP. 


"  FOR  God's  sake  let  me  out  of  here,"  exclaimed  Sut- 
cliff  springing  for  the  door. 

As  you  can  very  well  imagine  it  was  a  moment  of 
general  mental  paralysis,  when  to  receive  a  suggestion 
was  to  follow  it.  Mechanically,  therefore,  it  was  that 
we  followed  Sutcliff,  to  stand  for  some  moments  in  ir 
resolution  without.  And  various  the  emotions  that 
seized  upon  us  there.  Shaken  in  every  fibre  of  his  be 
ing,  yet  holding  a  steady  control  over  himself  through 
sheer  exercise  of  will,  Sutcliff  moved  about  uneasily, 
punctuating  every  few  steps  with  a  perturbed  shake  of 
the  head,  followed  uncertainly  in  the  rear  by  Ballard, 
who  trembled  like  a  mountain  aspen.  Waring,  while 
silent  and  pale  was  at  the  same  time  cool  and  composed ; 
and  myself  felt  a  vague  sense  of  uneasiness  which  had 
several  times  that  morning,  and  in  varying  degrees  of 
intensity,  possessed  me,  depart  and  a  calm,  mild  and 
warming  like  a  breath  of  early  summer,  permeate  my 
whole  being. 

I  looked  around  with  a  sense  of  elation  I  had  never 
felt  before.  I  seemed  to  see  with  a  preternatural  clear 
ness.  The  shadow  of  the  mountain  enfolded  the  floor 
of  the  glade,  the  crests  of  the  domes  and  the  pines  alone 

96 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

bathing  in  the  sunlight.  The  stream  by  the  side  of  the 
cabin  rippled  softly  and  unendingly;  the  breeze  of  the 
afternoon  dallied  with  the  tall  ferns  and  the  luxuriant 
mat  of  thimbleberry  beneath  the  oaks  and  buttonwoods  on 
its  broken  banks,  among  whose  branches  a  lone  robin 
appeared  and  made  the  solitude  of  the  place  only  the  pro- 
founder  by  the  contrast  its  occasional  song  afforded. 
The  supreme  beauty  of  it  all  touched  me  as  I  had  never 
been  touched  before. 

Sutcliff  went  to  the  brook,  and  stretched  at  length 
drank  of  its  waters,  followed  by  Ballard. 

'  This  has  become  the  mountain  of  mystery,  Waring," 
he  remarked  on  his  reapproach,  proffering  me  the  goblet 
which  he  had  then  taken  from  his  pocket,  opened  and 
filled,  and  which  I  drained  to  the  last  drop.  "  Old  Wo- 
lupa  first,  and  now — but  it's  no  use  talking;  it  simply 
beats  my  time." 

"And  mine,  too,  if  the  truth  is  to  be  told,"  returned 
Waring,  passing  his  hand  over  his  brows  as  if  to  restore 
a  little  order  to  the  riot  of  thought  then  reigning  within. 

"And  what  do  you  make  of  this  ?  "  Sutcliff  continued 
a  moment  later  with  a  sudden  accession  of  interest, 
pointing  to  a  heap  of  mold  which  had  the  appearance 
of  having  just  been  turned. 

We  drew  nearer.  I  believe  that  for  a  moment  Sut 
cliff  did  not  quite  take  in  the  full  significance  of  the  ob 
ject,  possessed  as  he  was  with  the  thought  that  it  was 
the  mouth  of  a  shaft.  But  its  careful  regularity,  and 
the  thoughtful  care  with  which  the  walls  had  been  cut 
and  smoothed,  impressed  me  at  once.  Tt  was  a  newly- 
dug  grave.  The  pick  and  the  shovel  that  had  been  em 
ployed  in  its  making  stood  up  against  the  nearest  cor 
ner  of  the  cabin. 

97 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Sutcliff,  with  another  shake  of  the  head,  turned  away, 
while  Ballard  mumbled  a  few  words  which  I  interpreted 
to  mean  our  immediate  departure. 

But  Waring  by  this  time  was  again  master  of  himself. 

"  No,"  he  said  firmly ;  "not  until  we  have  given  him 
burial.  That  he  wanted  such  is  plain  enough,  even  if 
common  decency  did  not  demand  it.  Now,  courage  and 
follow  me." 

The  few  moments  of  respite  had  done  their  work  of 
at  least  partially  restoring  the  general  equilibrium,  and  we 
now  entered  with  an  air  of  conviction  to  give  the  room 
a  closer  scrutiny  than  we  had  found  possible  in  that 
first  moment  of  bewilderment.  Several  cooking  utensils 
stood  upon  the  hearth-stone  and  in  the  ashes  of  one  cor 
ner  of  the  fireplace,  while  the  rough,  mud-chinked  walls 
were  hung  with  various  articles  of  wearing  apparel,  a 
rifle,  and  several  cheap  prints  in  colors.  Carpeting  the 
earth-floor  by  the  cot's  side  lay  the  pelt  of  a  great 
mountain-lion.  Upon  the  table  stood  a  cup  and  saucer 
just  as  when  pushed  backed  after  their  use,  a  candle 
stick  with  the  candle  burnt  down  to  the  socket,  a  flute, 
some  music,  paper  and  writing  materials,  a  diary  and 
several  books.  These  last  took  Waring's  immediate  at 
tention.  Burke's  "On  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful," 
Locke's  "'On  the  Working  of  the  Human  Understand 
ing,"  "  The  Unity  of  Truth,"  and  Drummond's  "  Natu 
ral  Law"  were  the  titles  of  a  few,  and  would  have  given 
some  insight  into  the  character  of  the  man  stretched 
there  upon  his  cot  had  other  evidence  been  wanting. 
But  intuitively  we — that  is  Waring  and  myself, — 
seemed  to  read  the  whole  story.  Death  to  him  had  been 
a  welcome  and  expected  guest,  for  no  sign  of  a  struggle 
showed  upon  his  countenance  or  in  distortion  of  body. 

98 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Stretched  his  length,  with  the  blanket  turned  down  at 
the  waist,  he  looked  but  for  the  pallor  of  his  features 
and  the  iciness  of  his  touch  as  if  steeped  in  profound 
slumber  only.  His  hands  lay  loosely  interlocked  upon 
his  breast  as  if  at  the  last  moment  they  had  been  ex 
tended  in  an  embrace  until,  nerveless,  they  had  fallen 
there,  never  to  move  again.  His  countenance  wore  a  look 
of  unspeakable  calm,  an  air  of  joy  one  might  almost 
say,  and  which,  strangely  enough,  seemed  a  reflex  of 
the  emotions  which  at  the  moment  possessed  me,  standing 
there  in  his  dead  presence.  In  a  few  words,  the  final 
dissolution  had  been  a  release  to  a  soul  wearying  of  its 
sojourn  in  its  house  of  clay. 

It  took  the  united  efforts  of  our  party  to  wrap  him  in 
his  blanket  and  lower  him  into  the  grave  which  he  had 
prepared  for  himself.  Then,  with  heads  bared  to  the 
heavens,  and  with  truly  none  of  that  depression  of 
spirits  which  so  ordinarily  accompanies  such  ceremonies, 
we  covered  him  with  the  cool,  moist  earth.  What  a 
strange,  life-giving  sensation  was  this  of  ours  which 
gave  us  as  never  before  to  understand  that  our  friend, 
and  my  uncle,  had  not  died  but  simply  gone  before. 

And  now  we  come  to  an  occurrence  stranger  than  any 
so  far  recorded.  While  Sutcliff  and  Ballard  were  com 
pleting  the  filling  in  of  the  grave,  Waring  and  myself 
again  re-entered  the  cabin,  this  time  to  inventory  its 
contents.  I  had  taken  down  the  rifle  and  had  lain  it 
upon  the  table  with  several  other  articles,  intending  to 
take  them  with  us  upon  our  return,  and,  with  my  thoughts 
far  removed  on  the  strange  occurrences  of  the  day,  was 
fumbling  with  the  diary  I  have  mentioned  when  a  letter 
dropped  out  from  between  its  pages.  There  was  nothing 
unusual  of  course  in  this,  but  imagine  my  surprise  and 

99 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

stupefaction  when,  on  the  point  of  returning  it  to  its 
place  of  keeping,  I  found  it  superscribed  to  Roger  War 
ing. 

Yes,  Roger  Waring;  and — surprises  it  appeared  were 
not  to  cease, — dated  but  two  days  before;  the  morning 
in  short  on  which  we  had  driven  forth  from  Shepherd's 
Rest  and  not  one  of  us  could  have  told  with  certainty 
just  where  the  evening  of  that  or  any  of  the  succeeding 
days  might  have  found  us.  For,  as  you  know,  we  had 
mapped  out  no  itinerary  beforehand.  We  had  departed 
from  the  ranch  with  no  particular  goal  in  view,  and 
most  certainly  with  no  intention  of  climbing  this  Butte, 
yet  here  was  a  letter  in  a  secluded  nook  of  a  mountain 
comparatively  little  known  addressed  to  one  of  our  party, 
and  with  a  certain  air  of  assurance  awaiting  his  com 
ing.  And  he  had  come;  that  was  the  strangest  part 
of  it.  And,  tracing  backward,  by  what  a  flimsy  chain 
of  circumstances  had  he  come?  It  can  easily  be  realized 
that  the  incident  threw  us  into  a  chaos  of  thought  from 
which  at  the  moment  there  seemed  no  extricating. 

Nor  was  our  bewilderment  lessened  in  any  degree 
by  its  text,  for  it  read  as  follows : 

"  My  young  friend  : 

"  Rose,  my  angel  wife,  tells  me  that  you  and  your 
friends  start  this  morning  on  a  trip  of  pleasure  for 
the  mountains.  You  have  no  fixed  point  in  view, 
but  she  will  guide  you  to  the  Basin.  To-morrow 
you  will  enter  it,  and  I  must  climb  to  the  crest  of 
the  mountain  and  fire  the  dead  pine  by  which  I  am 
to  obtain  your  attention.  When  you  find  me 
I  will  have  been  dead  but  a  few  hours ;  yet  bury  me ; 
it  is  her  wish  as  well  as  mine  to  see  the  poor  clay 
100 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

she  so  loved  on  earth  decently  laid  away  beneath 
the  surface. 

"  The  last  duties  to  the  dead  completed,  you  will 
take  with  you  my  rifle  and  flute,  my  books,  my  diary 
and  papers.  My  rifle  send  to  my  son,  Walter  Car- 
rington,  Pleasanton,  Yolo  Co. ;  my  books  to  Mrs. 
Eve  Early,  Alameda;  and  my  diary  and  papers  to 
Ida, — Rose  breathed  to  me  that  your  thoughts  are 
centered  in  each  other,  and  we  are  content.  My 
flute  you  will  retain  as  a  souvenir  from  one  who 
sought  to  do  his  duty  to  the  world,  how  imperfectly, 
the  pages  of  my  diary  will  tell.  Read  them,  and 
may  you  profit  from  the  lessons  they  may  contain. 

'"  And  now  adieu.  With  death  between,  Rose  and 
I  will  still  guide,  as  in  life  here,  the  hearts,  the 
minds  and  the  fortunes  of  our  children. 

THOMAS  CARRINGTON." 

Were  these  the  ravings  of  a  mind  gone  mad,  we 
asked  ourselves  again  and  again.  So  much,  on  the  face, 
appeared  the  purest  hallucination.  Yet  it  might  not  well 
be,  in  the  face  of  all  the  testimony  we  had  had  at  every 
step  of  that  day's  strange  progress.  True,  there  was 
much  we  did  not  understand;  but  is  there  not  much  on 
the  other  hand,  in  this  world  we  do  not  understand,  or 
can  ever  hope  to  understand?  A  perusal  of  the  diary 
and  papers  no  doubt  would  afford  us  light  to  much  that 
was  enigmatical  to  us  now.  But  for  that  we  must  bide 
our  time;  the  present  was  all  too  short.  With  an  effort 
we  gathered  the  various  articles  mentioned  in  the 
strange  missive  to  lay  them  together  upon  the  table. 

We  had  barely  finished  when  Sutcliff  entered,  followed 
by  Ballard. 

101 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  Come,"  he  said  hurriedly,  "we  must  be  off.  The  sun 
is  sinking  fast  and  we  have  a  long  trail  ahead." 

Just  then  he  caught  sight  of  our  strange  array. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  these  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Take  them  with  us  in  compliance  with  his  wishes," 
returned  Waring  soberly. 

"  Wishes,"  echoed  Sutcliff ;  "whose  wishes  ?  " 

"  The  dead, — Carrington's  uncle — the  man  you  have 
just  buried.  But  here,  read  for  yourself." 

Roger  handed  him  the  note, — I  will  always  maintain 
for  the  moment's  quiet  amusement  the  study  of  our 
friend's  countenance  during  its  perusal  would  afford 
him.  But  if  so  his  pleasure  was  short-lived,  for  Sut 
cliff  almost  immediately  began  to  shake  his  head  as  was 
his  way  when  sorely  perplexed,  and  returned  the  writ 
ing  but  half-read,  I  thought,  or  at  least  but  imperfectly 
understood. 

"  Here  we  are,  Waring,"  he  remarked  in  a  shame 
faced  way ;  "dog  on  me  if  I  can  make  head  or  tail  to  it. 
I  repeat,  it  beats  my  time.  But  we  can  argue  that  out  on 
the  trail ;  we  have  no  time  to  waste  now." 

We  distributed  the  various  articles  amongst  us  with 
the  view  of  not  overburdening  any  one  individual.  The 
books  I  divided  between  Ballard  and  myself.  The  flute 
Waring  un jointed  and  thrust  into  the  bosom  of  his  shirt. 
The  diary  he,  too,  retained.  Sutcliff  was  asked  to  take 
the  music — which  Waring  desired  to  preserve  also, — 
and  to  relieve  Waring  at  times  of  the  rifle,  the  convey 
ing  of  which  in  connection  with  our  own  over  the  rough 
trail  was  in  truth  no  small  matter.  Thus  equipped  we 
stood  ready  for  the  return. 

Loitering  for  a  few  moments,  bareheaded,  over  the 
grave  I  took  one  last  look  around.  The  lake  lay  smooth 

102 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

as  a  mirror  reflecting  with  a  miraculous  clearness  the 
environing  pines,  and  the  blue,  cloudless  ether  overhead. 
The  spot  lay  by  this  time  in  complete  shadow,  the 
domes  alone  being  tipped  with  the  gold  of  day.  To  the 
east  where  the  sudden  shelving  into  the  canyon  of  the 
Chiquita  afforded  that  sublime  prospect,  through  the 
hushed  atmosphere  of  the  afternoon,  the  many  peaks 
beyond  arose  in  pale  violet-grays  and  ochres,  half  hid  in 
high,  imposing  cloudbanks  of  immaculate  white.  It  was 
a  scene  to  fill  one  with  wonder  and  a  veneration  of  God, 
and  I  fell  to  conjecturing  by  what  possible  chance  it  was 
the  hermit  had  been  led  to  choose  a  site  surrounded  by 
such  incomparable  scenic  beauty. 

Then  we  started. 

The  ascent  of  course  we  found  more  fatiguing  than 
the  descent  of  noon,  and  the  sun  was  but  an  hour  high, 
as  Sutcliff  asserted,  with  palm  open  at  arm's  length 
measuring  between  the  orb  and  the  horizon,  when  we 
gained  the  summit. 

"All's  well  so  far,  boys,"  he  said  cheerily,  for  a  mo 
ment  pausing  to  regain  his  breath.  "  If  by  sundown  we 
reach  the  meadow  where  we  lunched  to-day,  why,  the 
rest  of  the  way  is  easy  enough.  Now  then." 

He  led  the  way  over  the  snow,  following  the  footprints 
of  the  morning,  and  our  descent  began  in  earnest.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  go  into  details.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
after  a  struggle  of  nearly  an  hour  we  gained  the  bench 
below  just  as  the  sun,  a  glowing  ball  of  fire,  set  in  a 
violet  mist  over  the  far  Panoche  hills.  Around  us,  like 
sentinels  in  glowing  bronze,  the  scattered  fir-groups 
stood  in  the  white  waste  of  granite ;  while  above,  in  the 
sunset  fires  reflected  from  the  west,  the  field  of  snow  and 
the  broken  walls  of  the  summit  burnt  rosily.  The  wind 

103 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

of  the  day  had  died!  away,  and  the  air  was  hushed  and 
still,  and  full  it  seemed  to  me  of  secret  life  and  promise, 
fresh  as  I  was  from  the  peace  and  the  beauty  and  the 
hope  of  that  death  beyond  the  mountain.  Again  it  was 
beautiful  beyond  words. 

A  little  further  on,  in  the  dimming  light  of  encroach 
ing  night,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  drop  a  couple  of 
mountain  quail,  and  Sutcliff  made  a  remarkably  fine  shot 
at  a  tree-squirrel.  With  these  additions  to  our  already 
wearisome  loads  we  continued  on.  It  was  dusk  when 
we  came  to  the  spot  where  we  had  seen  the  deer  in  the 
morning,  and  thoughts  of  old  Silas  and  his  delinquency 
reverted  to  my  mind;  and  the  moon  had  risen  and  was 
silvering  the  woods  as  we  crossed  the  stream  at  the  foot 
of  the  ridge  upon  which  our  camp  lay  and  we  took  up 
the  final  ascent.  Ten  minutes  more  and  completely 
worn  after  a  day  of  the  most  astounding  character,  as 
you  can  well  imagine,  we  reached  the  meadow,  checkered 
with  a  delicate  tracery  of  light  and  shadow,  where  our 
animals  grazed. 


104 


CHAPTER  X. 


SUTCLIFF  GIVES  US  EVIDENCE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  THE 
IX)ST    MINE. 


WE  had  hoped  to  find  old  Silas  in  possession  and  a 
smoking  meal  awaiting  us.  But  instead  all  was  dark ;  he 
had  not  yet  returned.  But  Sutcliff,  always  a  man  of  de 
cisive  action,  hastily  divesting  himself  of  his  burden,  gath 
ered  a  handful  of  pine-needles  and  a  half-dozen  of  the 
long,  resinous  cones  of  the  sugar-pine,  and  in  less  time 
than  it  takes  here  to  relate  it  had  a  fire  blazing  to  cheer 
our  wearied  souls. 

Ballard  and  myself,  too  fatigued  to  stand,  sank  help 
lessly  upon  our  blankets,  while  Waring  assisted  Sut 
cliff  in  the  silent  preparation  of  our  simple  meal.  The 
bean-pot  was  placed  by  the  fire  to  simmer;  some  bacon 
was  sliced  very  thin  and  grilled  to  a  delectable  crisp 
in  the  skillet,  and  a  full  pot  of  tea  set  to  steep.  Then 
a  fresh  supply  of  fuel  was  heaped  upon  the  fire,  and, 
with  the  dutch-oven  containing  our  bread  within  easy 
reach,  we  sat  down  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  inner 
man — Sutcliff,  Waring  and  myself,  for  Ballard  was  al 
ready  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus. 

For  what  seemed  to  me  an  unusual  period  silence 
held  between  us,  each  confined  to  his  own  thoughts.  And 

105 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

what  wonderful  food  they  were  that  evening  can  well 
be  imagined.  But  before  very  long,  his  appetite  sated 
to  some  extent,  Sutcliff  interrupted. 

"  Say,  Carrington,  when  you  and  Ballard  return  to 
the  City  you  can  without  fear  of  being  called  pre 
varicators,  report  having  passed  through  the  most  aston 
ishing  experience  that  ever  befell  mortal  in  these  moun 
tains.  Or  perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  neither 
of  you  uttered  a  word.  For  no  one  would  believe  you, 
you  know,  not  even  that  most  credulous  creature  be 
neath  the  sun,  your  grandmother.  Nor  is  it  to  be  won 
dered  at  if  you  will  but  stop  to  consider  a  bit.  What 
would  you  think,"  with  an  amusing,  cynical  smile  upon 
his  lips,  "of  the  man  who  started  to  fill  you  with  a 
story  of  how  he  and  a  party  of  friends  had  started  forth 
upon  a  certain  day  for  the  mountains  on  a  trip  of 
pleasure;  how  the  next  day  they  had  entered  the  Basin; 
how  barely  had  they  entered  than  their  attention  was 
called  to  a  mysterious  fire  upon  the  brow  of  the  Butte; 
and  how  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  they  resolved 
to  climb  the  mountain?  They  do  so;  and  here  led  by  an 
incident  natural  as  life  itself  they  follow  the  footprints 
of  a  human  being  and  come  to  one  of  the  swellest  little 
nooks  in  all  America.  A  lake ;  trees  ;  a  brook  of  pellucid 
clearness ;  a  view  of  distant  peaks ;  a  little  cabin ;  an 
open  doorway;  smoke  issuing  from  the  chimney  in  a 
thin  flim  of  blue.  Inside  a  man  upon  his  cot, — dead 
but  two  or  three  hours ;  books  and  papers  upon  a  table, 
and  among  them  a  letter, — a  letter  addressed  to  one 
of  the  party  and  awaiting  his  coming.  He  has  come; 
he  opens  it,  to  find  what  has  come  to  pass  foreshadowed 
days  before.  It  speaks  to  him  of  guardian-angels — 
plural  number,  Waring, — one  in  this  world  and  one  in 

106 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

the  world  to  come.  It  makes  requests;  it  bequeathes; 
it — no, — no,  Carrington,  if  you  value  your  liberty  at 
all,  keep  mum  or  they'll  corral  you  in  some  asylum  for 
the  feeble-minded." 

This  somewhat  lengthy  comment  was  delivered  with 
such  an  unusual  air  of  seriousness  by  our  companion 
that  both  Waring  and  myself,  knowing  his  volatile 
nature,  laughed  outright. 

"  That  was  not  so  bad,"  I  remarked  admiringly,  re 
membering  how  little  credit  for  discernment  I  had  given 
him. 

"  This  guardian-angel  business,"  said  Waring 
thoughtfully,  after  a  few  moments  of  silent  reflection,. 
"  is  the  one  thing  I  can  not  understand  of  all  this  day's 
unusual  occurrences.  I  could  understand  one  well 
enough,  but  two — ." 

And  he  shook  his  head  in  perplexity. 

"  And  that  allusion  to  thoughts  kindlily  reciprocated. 
Who  is  Ida,  pray  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  sweetest  of  girls,  Roger ;  my  cousin,  to 
know  whom  is  to  love  her." 

"  But  you  forget  that  I  do  not  know  her." 

To  this,  of  course,  I  could  but  shrug  my  shoulders. 

"And  say,"  continued  SutclifT  after  still  another 
pause,  and  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  had  an  incident 
suddenly  recalled  to  mind,  "what  do  you  think  of  this  ?  " 

He  placed  his  metal  plate  upon  the  ground  beside  him 
to  more  readily  take  from  his  shirt  pocket  an  article 
which  he  handed  to  Waring.  My^  pulses  stopped  their 
beating.  It  was  a  bit  of  quartz,  white  and  sparkling  in 
the  moonlight  with  free  gold  in  lacings  of  generous 
proportions, — the  very  counterpart  of  the  specimen  I 
had  seen  in  Waring's  collection. 

107 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"Where  on  earth  did  you  get  this?"  asked  Roger, 
rising  precipitately  and  stepping  to  the  fire  for  a  closer 
scrutiny. 

"  Over  the  mountain.  It  is  the  lost  Mine  of  the 
Mono.  My  blamed  head  has  been  so  full  of  that  over 
shadowing  incident  of  the  grave  that  I  quite  forgot  to 
tell  you.  But  while  you  were  in  the  cabin  the  last  time 
I  came  upon  this  lying  by  the  cabin  door." 

"  Was  there  more  of  it  ?  "  I  inquired,  as  Waring  re 
sumed  his  seat  and  handed  over  the  rock  for  my  in 
spection. 

"  Yes,  quite  a  heap ;  enough  at  least  to  make  plain  to 
me  that  the  old  man  was  on  to  the  lead." 

Yet  strangely  enough  the  news  brought  no  elation 
with  it.  In  the  face  of  the  lesson  we  had  just  been 
taught  in  the  life  of  one  who  so  tranquilly  could  face 
death  as  had  my  uncle,  what  were  material  advantages? 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Waring,  referring  back  to  the  point 
in  Sutcliff's  first  interruption,  "  his  papers  will  explain 
much  that  is  dark  and  a  riddle  to  us  now." 

He  arose  as  we  echoed  the  belief  and  stood  over  the 
fire  in  profound  meditation  for  a  time.  Then,  still  in 
reverie,  he  took  up  the  flute,  jointed  it,  and  blew  a  few 
rippling  arpeggios.  It  was  soft  and  mellifluous  in  tone, 
and  its  music  carried  dreamily  among  the  fir  woods. 
The  horses  for  the  moment  ceased  their  grazing  to 
prick  up  their  ears,  as  was  evident  from  the  sudden 
cessation  of  the  regular  pulsation  of  the  leader's  bell ; 
and  an  owl  which  had  at  uncertain  intervals  disturbed 
the  quiet  of  the  night  with  its  weird  hootings,  paused 
to  listen.  He  then  played  a  few  old  and  well-known 
melodies  mostly  in  the  slower  movements,  and  just 
suited  to  the  moods  we  were  in. 

1 08 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Whether  owing  to  extraordinary  qualities  in  the  in 
strument  or  that  Waring  found  himself  particularly 
inspired,  hours  passed  unheeded,  and  the  mid  of  the 
short  summer  night  drew  near.  I  remember  I  dozed 
over  the  coals.  When  I  awoke  to  my  surroundings 
it  was  to  find  Silas  standing  over  me,  a  hand  upon  my 
shoulder.  At  easy  length  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
fire  lay  Sutcliff  in  profound  slumber,  with  Waring 
squatted  upon  the  ground  beside  him  still  playing,  the 
arm  supporting  the  flute  resting  upon  his  knee,  and  his 
eyes  cast  dreamily  upon  the  flickering  embers.  My  awak 
ening  appeared  to  break  the  spell  that  was  upon  him, 
for  he  rose  to  slowly  put  the  instrument  away;  a  mo 
ment  later  returning  and  arousing  Sutcliff  before  the 
dews  which  were  falling  about  the  meadow  should  chill 
him.  I  crept  to  my  own  blankets,  and  without  wait 
ing  to  disrobe  stretched  myself  in  luxurious  ease  be 
neath  them.  And  so,  with  a  strange  comingling  of 
visions  of  Naomi,  the  nook  in  the  mountain,  and  the 
placid  face  of  my  dead  uncle,  the  few  remaining  night- 
hours  passed  away. 


109 


PART  II. 

The  Mystery  Solved 


CHAPTER  XI. 


WE  RETURN   TO  THE  BASIN. 


WITH  the  morning  came  a  change  in  our  program. 
I  returned  to  the  plains,  and  Waring,  as  my  host  and 
entertainer,  accompanied  me;  first  promising  the  three 
we  left  behind  that  he  would  return  the  moment  he  had 
seen  me  safe  to  the  station  and  aboard  the  train  that 
was  to  bear  me  north  to  break  the  news  of  my  uncle's 
death  to  his  family.  But  at  Oro  Fino,  acting  no  doubt 
upon  a  suggestion  from  somewhere, — for  flower,  bird 
and  breeze  held  missions  for  him  always, — he  decided  to 
accompany  me  further;  even  to  my  cousin's  home;  feel 
ing,  and  quite  rightly  too,  that  his  position  in  the  matter 
was  rather  that  of  principal,  and  that  that  fact  should 
rob  of  intrusion  whatever  of  this  characteristic  his  de 
cision  might  under  other  circumstances  have  been  at 
tended  with.  So  at  the  point  named  he  wrote  a  hasty 
note  apprising  Sutcliff  and  his  companions  of  his  sud 
den  change  of  mind,  and  entrusted  it  to  the  care  of  a 
passing  teamster,  with  instructions  to  forward  it  by 
Indian  messenger  from  the  Fork. 

From  the  ladies  at  the  ranch  our  story  met  with  much 
astonishment,  not  to  say  open  incredulity.  With  Ida  it 
was  different.  Hers  is  the  temperament  of  a  mystic, 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

and  it  became  apparent  at  once  that  there  had  been  no 
secrets  between  father  and  daughter.  At  her  home 
quite  a  little  surprise  lay  in  store  for  us  when  it  devel 
oped  that  my  cousin  was  no  other  than  the  cherished 
idol  my  friend  Waring  had  been  worshipping  in  secret 
for  a  year  and  more:  the  chance  passerby  upon  one  of 
the  streets  of  the  City,  the  fleeting  glimpse  of  whose 
bright  eyes  and  attractive  person  had  made  such  a  last 
ing  impression  upon  his  susceptible  nature. 

I  remember  on  our  arrival  at  the  house  being  shown 
into  the  music  room,  the  servant  then  disappearing  in 
search  of  her  mistress.  We  presented  no  cards  and  had 
mentioned  no  names,  it  being  my  wish,  for  reasons  of 
my  own,  to  hide  our  identity  for  the  moment ;  so  that 
she  had  no  knowledge,  unless  intuitive,  of  our  prox 
imity. 

Ida  was  my  favorite  cousin  and  a  girl  to  be  proud  of. 
She  had  all  the  beauty  and  the  certain  elegance  of  her 
mother ;  the  same  unfathomable  blue  eyes ;  the  light 
hair  over  a  brow,  high,  and  as  smooth  and  pure  as 
marble;  the  same  clear-cut  profile;  the  same  lithe  form, 
whose  slightest  movement  somehow  always  suggested 
to  me  something  that  was  higher  than  earth.  To  be 
frank,  it  was  rather  a  proud  moment  for  me  to  be  able 
to  introduce  so  much  grace  as  kin  of  mine ;  to  say  noth 
ing  of  the  satisfaction  I  felt  on  the  other  hand  of  blaz 
oning  Waring's  many  commendable  qualities  to  my 
cousin. 

T  recognized  her  light  footstep  in  the  hall,  and  the 
next  moment  she  stood  in  the  doorway.  At  the  sight  of 
me  she  began  to  tremble  from  head  to  foot,  and  clutched 
wildly  at  the  door-frame  for  support.  For  a  moment 
T  could  not  understand  her  distress,  and  the  next  my 

114 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

attention  was  taken  to  other  things.  For  at  the  sound 
of  her  approach  Waring  had  turned,  a  movement  that 
became  a  start  of  surprise,  and  which  recalled  Ida  to 
herself,  and  to  the  fact  that  we  were  not  alone. 

That  she  on  her  part  recognized  Waring,  and  with 
pleasure,  she  acknowledged  by  a  heightening  color,  and 
the  smile  of  welcome  which  lit  up  her  blue  eyes  as  he 
bowed  over  her  extended  hand.  As  if  by  a  miracle  all 
the  fears  of  that  first  moment  had  disappeared.  But  it 
was  for  a  moment  only. 

"  You  have  come,"  she  said  an  instant  later,  with  a 
slight  return  of  her  pallor,  her  eyes  reading  mine, 
" — you  have  come  to  tell  me  that  my  father —  " 

"  Is  at  peace,"  I  ended  for  her,  feeling  that  she  ex 
pected  the  worst. 

She  gave  a  quick  cry  of  despair  and  was  about  to 
fall.  I  made  a  move  to  support  her  but  Waring  anti 
cipated  me,  caught  the  fainting  form  and  bore  it  gently 
to  a  couch.  I  went  out  of  the  room  in  search  of  a  re 
storative.  When  I  returned  he  was  down  on  one  knee 
by  her  side  pushing  back  with  a  lingering  touch  the 
straying  films  of  hair,  and  watching  with  concern  for 
the  return  of  the  rose-flush  to  cheek  and  brow  which 
was  to  tell  of  her  return  to  consciousness  as  well.  In 
the  look  which  he  turned  upon  me  there  was  something 
which  told  me  that  he  was  on  the  eve  of  a  better  under 
standing  of  Sutcliff's  allusion  to  guardian-angels  in  the 
plural  number. 

For  reasons  made  plain  by  the  foregoing,  his  visit 
North  was  prolonged  much  beyond  his  first  intention ; 
so  that  when  at  last  he  did  return  it  was  to  find  that  the 
mountain  party  had  beaten  him  in  by  several  days.  Of 
that  party,  I  found  out  later,  none  had  in  the  interim 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

returned  to  the  nook  in  the  mountain.  Horses,  I  knew, 
could  not  have  drawn  Ballard  there  (gold  might  have, 
but  Sutcliff  had  kept  the  secret  of  his  find  from  him)  ; 
and  Silas  had  met  with  a  knowing  smile  and  shake  of 
the  head  every  detail  of  that  day's  adventure,  until  Sut 
cliff  had  given  up  in  disgust  and  pique.  As  for  making 
the  attempt  alone,  the  thought  of  the  danger  of  that 
trail,  and  the  solitude  of  the  glen  with  its  deserted  cabin 
and  rounded  mound,  somehow  did  not  seem  to  place  the 
idea  in  a  particularly  pleasing  light  to  him.  Upon  his 
return  Waring  at  once  hunted  up  his  friend  and  arranged 
for  a  return  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 

For  a  time  it  looked  as  if  fate  was  to  intervene  a 
finder  to  prevent  the  contempleted  move.  Duties  that 
were  not  to  be  cast  lightly  aside  demanded  their  atten 
tion  from  the  first.  There  was  first  of  all  the  annual  re 
arranging  of  the  camps  for  the  better  occupancy  of  the 
various  flocks,  the  period  of  whose  return  from  the 
mountains  was  now  fast  approaching; — broken  panels 
to  repair;  corrals  to  erect;  wooden  tanks  and  long  lines 
of  leaky  watering-troughs  to  caulk ;  horse-powers  to  oil 
and  otherwise  put  in  order,  and  the  thousand  and  one 
other  duties  which  go  to  make  up  the  day  of  a  busy 
stockman.  Then  came  the  fall  shearing  with  its  fort 
night  of  pandemonium  and  confusion,  followed  by  the 
half-yearly  dipping;  and  then  an  unexpected  group  of 
visitors  which  had  to  be  taken  back  into  the  hills  for  a 
week's  quail  shoot.  In  short,  October  found  the  spot 
still  unvisited,  and  the  site  of  the  mine  as  much  a  mys 
tery  as  ever.  Then  came  the  autumn  rains. 

In  fact  it  was  not  until  the  spring  of  the  following 
year  that  we  found  the  opportunity  so  long  and  ardently 
looked  for,  Waring  in  the  meantime  paying  another 

116 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

visit  to  the  home  of  my  cousin.  That  was  the  year  1884. 
If  you  are  an  old  timer  you  should  easily  recall  how  very 
wet  and  late  was  that  spring  of  1884.  I  remember  I  ar 
rived  the  first  week  in  June  in  response  to  an  urgent  re 
quest  from  Waring  to  join  him,  and  for  three  weeks 
was  rain-bound  at  Shepherd's  Rest.  Not  that  the  fact 
annoyed  me.  Up  to  that  time  those  were  the  happiest 
three  weeks  of  my  life.  For  Naomi  was  there  and  the 
intervals  between  showers  were  passed  in  spirited  rides 
over  the  plains,  and  in  visits  to  the  Table  Mountain, 
where  we  studied  the  flowers  together,  and  watched  the 
piles  of  white  cloud  and  the  great  spaces  of  limpid  blue 
between,  chase  in  waves  of  sunshine  and  shadow  across 
the  broad,  open  valley  at  our  feet,  taking  in  on  their  way 
the  dark  clump  of  gums  of  the  ranch,  and  the  towering 
windmill,  finally  to  loose  themselves  over  the  rounding 
tops  of  the  more  distant  hills.  And  when  the  rain  fell 
we  hung  in  sweet  tete-a-tete  over  the  piano  at  the  dusky 
end  of  the  low-ceilinged  room,  where  a  fire  smouldered 
on  the  hearth, — more  to  cheer  by  its  presence  than  to 
rob  the  air  of  any  sharpness, — paying  heed  to  neither 
time  nor  tide.  It  was  the  last  of  June,  and  the  mullion 
by  which  Roger  had  his  easel  and  sat  at  his  work,  wholly 
oblivious  of  our  presence,  was  wide  open  in  welcome  to 
the  season.  It  was  all  settled  in  those  few  weeks.  Mrs. 
Waring  was  most  kind  and  motherly;  Roger, — himself 
in  the  heaven  of  his  new-found  love, — most  considerate. 
If  ever  the  course  of  love  was  made  to  run  smooth  it 
was  ours. 

When  at  last  the  weather  cleared  for  the  summer  and 
the  last  of  the  ewes  and  lambs  had  departed  for  the 
mountains,  Waring  made  his  final  arrangements  for  the 
oft-postponed  visit  to  the  scenes  of  the  past  summer's 

117 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

adventure.  On  this  occasion,  unlike  the  other,  we 
started  from  the  ranch,  the  three  of  us,  with  pack  and 
saddle-animals;  and  instead  of  the  wagon-roads  we  took 
the  trails  which  everywhere  seemed  to  cut  through  the 
hills,  and  all  of  which  were  equally  familiar  to  the  in 
stinctive  intelligence  of  Sutcliff.  As  before,  the  first 
night  out  we  camped  on  the  Fork,  the  next  day  enter 
ing  the  Basin.  On  the  Lip  we  paused  for  a  view  of  the 
Butte,  the  cynosure,  of  course,  of  all  eyes.  From  top  to 
base  it  was  cloaked  in  snow. 

"  It  is  quite  evident  that  we  can  not  make  the  riffle 
there,"  said  Sutcliff  quietly,  guiding  his  horse  to  the 
trail  and  beginning  the  easy  descent  into  the  gently-de 
clining,  saucer-shaped  depression.  "  We  must  go  by 
way  of  the  Gap.  You  say  there  is  a  trail  entering  from 
there,  do  you  not,  Waring  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

And  instead  of  stopping  to  encamp  upon  the  verge  of 
the  Cherry-Creek  Meadows  we  passed  on  beyond  some 
distance  to  where  a  small  side-hill  or  "hanging"  meadow 
offered  the  sought-for  horse-feed,  and  there  unpacked, 
in  the  near  vicinity  of  the  Gap. 

"  It  must  have  been  in  here  that  Silas  killed  the  buck 
last  summer  which  Ballard,  you  remember,  roused  from 
his  feeding,"  said  Waring,  pausing  for  a  moment  in  the 
work  of  unpacking  to  look  about  him. 

I  laughed  quietly  at  the  recollection. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Sutcliff  with  a  show  of  severity. 
"And  not  content  with  killing  the  only  buck  we  met 
upon  the  trip  added  insult  to  injury  by  returning  to 
civilization  with  three  cartridges  to  his  name." 

"  He  only  had  four  to  begin  with  I  remember." 

Sutcliff  shook  his  head  affirmatively. 

ITS 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"And  you?  "  I  asked,  curious  for  a  reply. 

"  Love  noise  and  bluster  too  much  to  have  fared  as 
well." 

We  pitched  our  tent,  and  about  sunset  went  up  into 
the  Gap  for  a  view  of  the  far  mountains.  Strewn  with 
the  needles  and  the  pollen  of  the  pines,  much  snow  still 
lay  piled  in  the  shadow  of  the  fir-copses  and  in  the  brush- 
entanglements,  from  which  little  rills  of  water  crossed 
our  path  at  every  few  steps,  softening  the  ground  to 
that  unpleasant  consistency  that  we  sought  the  higher 
and  more  sterile  slopes  to  pass  over. 

"  We'll  never  get  through  here  to-morrow  with  the 
horses,"  said  Sutcliff,  pausing  in  the  climb  to  survey  the 
conditions.  "  We'll  have  to  skirt  the  ridge  still  higher 
up  where  the  stony  nature  of  the  soil  will  prevent  our 
miring." 

"We'll  do  better  than  that,"  returned  Waring;  "we'll 
simply  leave  the  horses  behind  and  go  it  afoot." 

From  the  Gap  the  view  beyond  was  the  one  I  so  well 
remembered  seeing  from  the  Butte's  top,  only  here  it 
was  more  on  a  level  with  the  eye; — against  a  matchless 
sky  of  turquoise  the  serrated  ridges  of  the  Minarets, 
very  white  and  very  pure  in  the  snow-robes  of  winter, 
and 

"  Bathed  in  the  glories  of  the  glowing  west." 

Below,  the  feathered  ridges  leading  to  and  down  be 
tween  the  two  forks  of  the  Chiquita  stood  out  dark  and 
clear  in  the  translucent  blue  of  mountain  shadow ;  their 
beauty  a  little  higher  up  and  nearer  at  hand  heightened 
by  the  deeper  tones  of  a  picturesque  group  of  dishevelled 
firs  on  a  jutting  crag.  The  air  everywhere  was  rever 
berant  with  the  rush  of  waters,  the  only  sound  it  seemed 
to  break  in  upon  the  silence.  Not  a  breath  was  there 

119 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

to  pulse  into  the  soul-stirring  music  of  the  mountains 
their  great  aeolian  harps,  the  pines;  not  the  chirp  of  a 
bird,  the  first  fore-runner  of  its  kind,  nor  the  buzz  of 
an  insect.  The  quiet  of  death  itself  hung  about.  But 
as  we  stood  the  sharp  yelp  of  a  coyote  came  to  us  with 
a  startling  clearness  from  some  aspens  just  below,  to  be 
repeated  at  intervals  and  at  growing  distances  until  lost 
to  the  sense. 

Returned  to  camp  we  felt  ourselves  rather  fortunate 
in  coming  upon  a  pitchy  log, — fortunate  I  say  where  all 
the  fallen  timber  reeked  with  wet, — by  the  aid  of  which 
we  started  a  rousing  fire.  For  while  there  was  some 
thing  of  the  promise  of  spring  in  the  air  to  buoy  the  soul, 
there  was  also  the  nip  of  frost  which  made  the  material 
man  seek  the  shelter  and  'warmth  of  an  overcoat  and 
the  cheer  of  a  fire.  Besides  there  was  no  moon.  The 
night  grew  dark,  thin  films  of  vapor  hiding  the  stars ; 
and  dancing  shadows,  which  in  the  overwhelming  silence 
of  the  place  grew  uncanny  as  the  night  wore  on  and  our 
story  progressed,  filled  the  timber  just  beyond  the  circle 
of  light,  forming  a  blurry  blackness  momentarily  pene 
trated  by  an  occasional  flicker  of  our  fire  to  the  point 
even  of  at  times  outlining  in  lurid  colors  the  forms  of 
our  horses  on  the  mountain  side  above  us. 

And  seated  by  that  fire  Waring  gave  us  for  the  first 
time  the  story  of  the  lost  mine  in  its  relation  to  the  life 
of  its  latest  discoverer. 


1 20 


CHAPTER  XII. 


BEGINS  THE  TALE  OF  THE  LOST  MINE. 


"  I  NEVER  heard  of  a  like  case  in  all  my  days,"  Sut- 
cliff  remarked,  with  the  relieved  sigh  of  one  who  returns 
to  earth  after  a  flight  in  fancy  to  unwonted  heights. 

Clad  in  his  corduroys,  and  pipe  in  mouth,  he  crouched 
at  one  end  of  the  burning  logs  to  escape  the  smoke, 
which  as  it  rose  clung  close  in  indecision  for  a  moment, 
to  be  swept  the  next  in  a  dissipating  cloud  into  the  en 
gulfing  blur  of  the  woods  below  by  the  air-current  from 
the  Gap. 

"  Ah,  yes ;"  said  Waring,  "  such  love  is  indeed  rare.  It 
was  one  of  heaven's  marriages.  You  have  heard  of 
such?" 

Sutcliff  nodded. 

"  But  then  he  was  always  of,  I  will  not  say  a  melan 
choly,  but  of  a  spiritual  frame  of  mind,"  continued  War 
ing,  "and  inclined  to  idealize  every  relationship  of  life. 
That  may,  perhaps,  account  for  some  of  its  vehemence." 

He  paused  as  if  expecting  a  reply.    But  none  came. 

"  No  matter,"  he  resumed  once  more.  "  The  fact  re 
mains  that  his  life  was  wrapped  up  in  hers,  so  that  when 
death  came  to  claim  its  own,  only  the  shell  of  him,  so 
to  speak,  was  left  behind." 

121 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

I  made  a  motion  as  if  to  interrupt  him;  but  he  con 
tinued  quietly,  his  eyes  in  abstraction  upon  the  fire,  not 
noting  my  gesture. 

"  Not  that  he  was  wanting  in  faith, — men  of  his  turn 
of  mind  seldom  are.  To  put  the  matter  simply,  the  ties 
of  earth  were  the  stronger  for  the  moment.  To  use  a 
term  of  the  sea,  he  dragged  his  anchor.  Like  a  derelict 
he  roamed  the  country  with  burro  and  pack  aimlessly, 
indifferently,  hopelessly.  It  was  five  or  six  years  ago 
that  he  appeared  in  this  neighborhood  for  the  first  time, 
and  quite  by  accident  fell  in  with  old  Gray  at  the  Flats. 
Now,  old  Gray,  though  he  cohabits  with  a  squaw,  is  a 
man  it  seems  of  superior  education.  He  is  well-read, 
and  what  is  more  to  the  point  has  done  "much  thinking 
along  independent  lines.  The  philosophies  are  his  partic 
ular  hobby.  At  any  rate  the  quaint  character  of  the  deaf 
old  mountaineer  pleased  the  fancy  of  your  uncle,  and  at 
Gray's  urgent  solicitations  the  homestead  on  the  moun 
tain-side  was  made  the  centre  of  his  peregrinations  here. 

"  For  reasons  at  once  obvious — its  position  on  one  of 
the  most  frequented  trails  of  the  Sierra  for  one — the 
little  clearing  is  more  or  less  an  Indian  rendezvous. 
And  from  there  it  is  but  an  hour's  ride  to  the  Fork  and 
its  rancherias.  Curious,  he  fell  in  with  the  Indians 
there,  and  shortly  became  more  or  less  a  nomad  himself. 
For  in  his  then  state  of  mind  the  true  relationship  of 
things  had  lost  some  of  its  proportions.  Where  in  the 
past  he  had  given  thought  to  only  the  more  important, 
now  the  trivial  excited  his  interest  quite  as  much. 
Among  other  things  he  fell  to  studying  his  aboriginal 
friends, — their  manner  of  thought,  their  aims,  their 
language,  and  their  lore. 

"And  here  for  the  first  time  he  came  upon  the  story 

122 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono, 

of  the  lost  mine.  The  romance  of  it  all,  wound  up  as 
it  was  in  the  gossamer  of  a  thousand  details,  had  pos 
session  of  him  from  the  first.  In  his  trailings  through 
the  mountains  his  eyes  grew  to  live  only  for  the  pros 
pect  that  in  the  end  was  to  lead  him  to  its  discovery. 
Upon  the  back  stoop  of  the  little  hut  in  the  grey  of  the 
mountain  twilight,  and  as  the  moon  topped  the  ridge 
above,  all  the  philosophic  discussions  in  the  end  reverted 
to  the  one  subject  always  uppermost  in  his  mind.  Even 
his  hours  of  sleep  were  not  free  from  thoughts  of  it, 
for  it  was  in  his  dreams  that  all  the  vain  hopes  and 
yearnings  of  the  day  found  realization,  and  he  exulted 
in  the  possession  of  the  mine's  untold  wealth.  The 
search  became  a  pitiful,  while  altogether  harmless,  mania 
with  him.  He  became  the  inseparable  friend  of  the  old 
chief,  the  herder  once  in  my  father's  employ,  and  as  time 
passed  on  won  upon  the  friendship  and  esteem  of  others 
of  the  tribe, — man,  woman  and  child. 

But  all  to  no  purpose.  All  were  bound  to  secrecy; 
at  least  so  it  seemed  to  him,  for  no  one  could  be  found 
to  divulge  a  word  that  would  afford  him  a  clue  to  the 
location  of  this  fabled  mine.  Then  accident  gave  him 
the  key.  Seated  one  morning — it  was  the  day  after  his 
annual  return  late  one  spring, — gun  in  hand  upon  a  big, 
rounded  rock  overlooking  the  brush  thickets  under  the 
Figure  7  upon  the  one  side,  and  the  tumbled  course  of  the 
Black  Laurel  upon  the  other, — a  dark,  insignificant 
speck  in  that  vast  expanse  of  sky  and  mountain  mapped 
out  in  the  heat  and  haze  of  a  mid-summer  day, — he 
was  recalled  to  himself  by  the  sudden  report  of  a  rifle 
close  at  hand,  followed  by  others  in  quick  succession, 
and  by  half-stifled  cries  for  help.  Springing  from  the 
rock  he  hastened  in  the  direction  indicated,  and  came 

123 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

just  in  time  to  put  a  bullet  into  the  heart  of  a  great 
cinnamon  engaged  in  deadly  combat  with  a  man.  That 
man  was  the  old  chief.  This  incident  turned  the  tide  in 
his  favor.  It  bore  down  the  last  vestige  of  racial  re 
straint  between  them.  Carrington  felt  he  had  the  red 
man  at  his  mercy,  and  that  he  might  command  anything 
he  possessed. 

"And  white-man-like  he  chose  the  secret  of  the  lost 
mine.  Great  as  was  the  call  put  upon  him  there  was  no 
hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  Indian.  The  mystery  of 
the  location  was  to  be  given  him.  And  to  this  end  one 
morning  while  the  stars  were  paling  in  the  east,  and  an 
ebbing  moon  cradled  in  a  few  fleecy  clouds  hung  low 
in  the  flushing  sky,  they  quietly  stole  forth  from  the 
rancheria  on  the  Fork,  followed  by  the  bayings  of  the 
startled  dogs  of  the  tribe.  On  the  way,  in  the  light  of 
the  early  morning,  they  stopped  at  Gray's,  where  Car 
rington  told  in  triumph  of  their  mission.  Harmless 
enough,  but  unhappily  for  all  concerned  the  old  man's 
son,  Joe  the  half-breed, — a  fellow  with  an  unreasoning 
hatred  of  everything  white,  coupled  to  an  avarice  that 
knew  no  bounds, — overheard.  You  know  the  man." 

We  nodded,  not  wishing  to  interrupt  with  a  word  the 
thread  of  a  narrative  so  graphically  told. 

"  This  man  resolved  if  possible  to  frustrate  their  plans. 
But  how?  To  harm  a  hair  of  Carrington's  head  was 
Imt  to  invite  trouble  upon  himself  at  the  hands  of  the 
whites,  and  was  of  course  a  thing  to  be  avoided.  Be 
sides,  Carrington  was  his  father's  one  intimate  friend, 
and  read  his — Joe's, — very  soul  whenever  they  met; 
which  fact  bore  heavily  upon  the  superstitious  streak  in 
him.  The  plan  the. least  resultant  of  danger  to  himself 
was  to  kill  the  old  chief — traitor  he  called  him  to  nerve 

124 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

himself  to  the  deed, — before  the  purpose  of  their  visit  was 
accomplished;  for  he  knew  of  the  indifference  of  the 
whites  usually  to  the  shedding  of  blood  where  that  blood 
was  that  of  a  so-called  inferior  people.  So  when  they 
started  again  he  followed  in  secret  upon  their  trail  with 
murder  in  his  heart.  And  well  up  on  the  mountain, 
while  Carrington  had  gone  somewhat  ahead,  he  stole 
upon  the  full-blood,  buried  his  knife  in  his  back,  and 
hurled  him  over  the  rocks. 

"  From  the  trail  above  Carrington  saw  all  that  trans 
pired  ;  and  Joe  the  half-breed  saw  he  saw  and  fled  into 
the  woods.  Carrington  followed  him  the  many  miles  back 
to  the  ranch,  sought  him  out  like  a  nemesis,  and  in  sub 
stance  said  to  him :  "  You  have  nothing  to  fear  at  my 
hands ;  your  secret  is  safe.  Murderer  that  you  are,  you 
have  a  worthy  father.  And  that  father  is  my  friend.  But 
for  that  fact  the  law  should  have  you."  And  so  the 
secret  of  the  deed  rested  IJfetween  them ;  Carrington  im 
mune  because  of  the  dread  sway  he  held  over  the  man 
of  crossed  blood;  the  Indian  secure  in  the  promise  of 
immunity  given. 

"  In  his  writings  Carrington  gives  two  reasons  for  his 
course.  The  first  is  that  he  wished  to  protect  from  sor 
row  the  few  remaining  years  of  his  aged  friend,  which 
was  laudable  enough.  The  other  is  of  a  much  more 
complex  nature,  and  was  characteristic  of  the  man.  It 
had  not  yet  been  proven  to  him  that  two  wrongs  made 
a  right.  If  murder  was  wrong,  he  argued,  then  murder 
in  atonement  was  murder  still,  even  if  done  in  the  guise 
of  law,  and  in  the  name  of  justice.  And  then  after  all, 
what  was  the  material  life?  Did  we  not,  perhaps,  sweet 
as  it  is,  give  it  undue  importance?  Did  not  God,  the 
Center  from  which  springs  all  light  and  all  the  good 

125 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

of  the  Universe,  require  it  at  the  hands  of  all?  Millions 
answered  each  year  in  obedience  to  His  call.  Not  but 
that  murder  was  wrong;  but  with  him  the  wrong  lay 
more  in  the  violation  of  that  abstract  law  that  marks  the 
boundary  of  what  we  call  the  right,  and  the  perversion 
of  that  right.  He  was  a  man  of  peculiar  mental  turn, 
you  see.  With  him  the  murdered  had  not  been  sinned 
against  half  so  much  as  had  the  murderer  sinned 
against  himself,  strange  as  this  may  sound.  For  he 
believed  that  the  purposes  of  life,  expressed  here  in  the 
material  existence,  are  beyond  permanent  human  inter 
vention  ;  that  they  lie  strictly  within  the  control  of  some 
higher  power,  and  continue  on  in  an  after-life  irrespec 
tive  of  what  occurred  on  earth.  But  to  the  murderer, 
as  to  all  wrongdoers,  comes  a  day  of  reckoning  as  in 
evitable  as  death  itself,  bringing  with/  it  the  fires  of  re 
morse  to  waste,  and  possibly  even  to  destroy,  the  soul 
for  whose  home-coming  we  are  told  the  Most  High  is 
continually  on  the  watch. 

"  The  discovery  of  the  body  by  yourself,  Sutcliff ,  re 
lieved  him  of  the  necessity  of  exposing  his  knowledge 
of  the  affair.  And  that  he  stood  high  in  the  estimation 
of  the  Indians  on  the  Fork  is  evident  in  the  fact  that 
throughout  not  a  shadow  of  suspicion  rested  upon  him. 
He  was  the  last  man  known  to  have  been  with  him; 
and  certain  covert  tales,  emanating,  of  course,  from  the 
wily  half-breed,  sought  at  one  time  to  unduly  color 
that  fact  and  so  raise  a  sense  of  distrust  against  him. 
But  they  were  in  vain. 

"A  few  days  later  Carrington  returned  to  the  moun 
tain  alone.  For  while  the  secret  in  its  focus  had  died 
with  the  old  chief,  enough  had  been  disclosed  to  very 
materially  circumscribe  the  field  of  search.  The  vast 

126 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

drift  of  snow  at  the  upper  end  of  the  ravine  had  been 
pointed  out  to  him  as  being  directly  in  the  path;  and 
once  on  the  summit  it  was  well  nigh  impossible  to  go 
wrong  where  but  one  passable  depression  led  down 
the  declivity  to  the  east.  At  the  foot,  he  had  been  told, 
they  would  find  a  beautiful  flat  with  the  horse-feed  belly- 
high  upon  it,  overtopped  with  trees  of  wonderful  growth ; 
and  a  lake,  set  like  a  gem  in  the  brow  of  the  hoary 
mountain.  Once  the  ice  of  his  natural  reserve  all 
melted  the  poor  fellow  had  grown  garrulous  on  the 
short  trail. 

"  But  once  in  the  alcove  it  became  apparent  at  once 
that  there  ended  all  certainty.  The  finding  of  the  mine 
itself  was  again  as  much  a  matter  of  uncertainty  and 
chance  as  it  had  ever  been  in  its  checkered  history.  He 
returned  at  once  over  the  mountain  for  a  burro  loaded 
with  provisions  and  tools.  These  he  cached  in  the  ravine, 
again  toiling  to  the  enchanted  flat  with  pick  and  shovel, 
and  axe.  to  hew  for  himself  a  trail  over  the  rocks  ana 
through  the  brush  on  the  almost  perpendicular  walls  to 
the  right,  in  the  direction  of  the  Gap,  so  that  he  might 
have  easier  egress  from  the  place.  It  was  a  blind  trail 
at  best,  and  a  pile  of  fallen  limbs  thrown  across  two 
boulders  upon  it  most  effectually  balked  any  tendency 
of  the  burro  to  roam.  Then  began  a  thorough  and  sys 
tematic  search  for  the  hidden  treasure.  But  vain  was 
his  work.  For  weeks  it  continued,  morning,  noon,  and 
afternoon.  The  tranquil  summer  passed  away  and  the 
golden  autumn  came,  to  find  him  still  at  his  task.  Then 
came  the  first  rains ;  and  later  the  snows  of  winter,  forc 
ing  him  very  much  against  his  will  to  seek  the  more 
clement  weather  of  the  plains. 

"  With  the  early  spring  he  came  again, — T  think  it  was 
127 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

the  year  I  met  him  in  the  Flats.  But  in  the  meantime 
a  peculiar  change  had  begun  to  come  over  him.  The 
groundwork  of  his  nature  had  come  to  slowly  reassert  it 
self.  The  simple  life  he  was  leading  away  from  the 
grossness  of  the  crowd,  and  amid  the  entrancing  beauty 
which  encompassed  him  on  every  hand, — the  vivid  high 
lights,  the  cool  shadow-tones,  the  magnitude  of  moun 
tain,  valley,  and  air-line ;  and  most  potent  of  all,  the 
soul-reaching  silence, — were  all  working  their  secret 
charm,  and  revivifying  the  spiritual  side  of  his  nature 
far  beyond  its  old-time  limits.  The  long  days  of  intro 
spective  thought,  into  a  train  of  which  he  had  been 
thrown  by  the  death  of  his  wife,  and  which  of  late  had 
been  much  intensified  by  the  solitude  of  the  position 
he  had  chosen,  were  slowly  revolutionizing  the  man. 
Not  that  he  took  a  lesser  interest  in  the  things  of  this 
world  than  in  the  days  of  old;  the  truth  was  he  took 
more.  But  his  horizons  were  enlarging.  He  began  to 
see  things  from  a  higher  and  broader  plane.  He  gen 
eralized  more.  Unconsciously  he  approached  the  foun 
tain-head  of  wisdom.  He  still  took  an  active  interest  in 
his  search,  but  the  ardor  of  old  was  beginning  to  pale. 
"  In  the  pauses  that  now  came  between  he  built  him 
self  the  little  cabin  and  the  broad  fire-place.  From  his 
home  in  the  north  he  brought  with  him  books  and  per 
iodicals  ;  and  music ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  many  a 
night-prowler — and  particularly  the  lion  whose  pelt  we 
found  upon  the  floor,  and  which  had  resented  his  appear 
ance  upon  the  mountain  from  the  first, — has  paused  in 
the  uncertain  light  of  the  forest  to  listen  to  the  unwonted 
sound  of  his  flute." 


128 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


HE   OPENS   TELEPATHIC    COMMUNICATION    WITH    THE 
WORLD. 


"AND  where,"  continued  Waring,  "  in  the  other  sum 
mer  he  had  courted  the  strictest  solitude,  occasionally 
now  the  call  of  his  kind  grew  upon  him  to  a  strength 
not  to  be  denied,  when  he  paid  willing,  and  what  oft  be 
came  protracted,  visits  to  the  Gray  clearing. 

'''  That  this  world  is  one  full  of  surprises  you  no  doubt 
have  discovered  long  before  this.  We  come  upon  them 
in  the  most  unlikely  places.  Here  we  have  one  in  the 
old  shake-maker  whose  cabin  stands  beyond  the  Lip. 
If  we  judge  from  appearances,  I  admit,  the  assertion 
carries  with  it  an  air  of  doubt,  but  I  have  the  word  of 
your  uncle  that  this  white-haired  old  man  has  a  knowl 
edge  of  things  that  would  put  to  shame  the  learning  of 
many  a  college  professor.  His  favorite  study  and  theme 
of  discourse  is  the  human  mind  and  its  workings,  a  sub 
ject  that  received  a  new  direction  now  at  the  hands  of 
the  two  friends ;  for  it  seems  that  Carrington,  too,  was 
well  fitted  by  early  education,  but  more  particularly  by 
nature  for  the  proper  understanding  and  manipulating 
of  this  little-understood  subject. 

"  Both  had  given  thought  to  the  matter  in  the  years 
129 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

before  their  meeting;  and  the  discussions  now  brought 
with  them  a  revival  and  a  certain  hitherto  unattainable 
familiarity,  owing  to  the  want  of  maturity  due  to  ex 
perience  and  age,  that  but  very  few  enjoy  or  can  even 
be  brought  to  realize  as  possible.  They  held  theories 
which  they  sought  to  organize  into  a  science  as  it  were. 
That  they  succeeded  in  their  work  much  beyond  the  ordi 
nary  is  plain  enough,  for  some  very  remarkable  results 
followed  upon  their  experiments. 

"  They  first  convinced  themselves — what  they  had 
argued  all  along, — that  thought  is  a  dynamic  force  cap 
able  of  being  projected  from  mind  to  mind  without  the 
intermediary  of  speech.  Speech  it  was  claimed  is  but  the 
mode  of  the  clumsy.  This  in  a  measure  is  no  doubt  true. 
As  we  age  in  experience  we  find  the  eye  in  many  cases 
to  serve  as  well,  or  more  subtly  still,  a  touch.  Carrington 
cites  instance  after  instance — and  I  have  met  cases  my 
self, — where  he  had  read  question  in  the  eyes  of  his  wife, 
and  he  had  answered  them  quite  as  intelligently  through 
the  use  of  the  same  channel ;  at  least  so  he  had  judged 
from  their  changed  expression.  And  many  times,  too, 
later  in  life,  when  the  souls  of  the  two  had  become  more 
transfused,  on  a  comparison  of  notes  after  days  of  ab 
sence,  he  was  rather  surprised  to  find  that  there  had 
been  an  unconscious  communion  of  thought,  though  miles 
lay  betwen  them  at  the  time.  The  idea  is  simply  to  be 
able  to  recognize  an  impression  or  suggestion  from  with 
out  as  a  message  from  afar;  or,  in  other  words,  to  be 
able  to  winnow  the  grain  from  the  chaff.  The  universe 
is  full  of  them, — many  breathed  unconsciously,  there 
fore,  negatively;  a  few  projected  with  precision,  force 
and  purpose,  to  be  accepted  by  the  wise  at  their  true 
value.  Nature  seems  to  repeat  her  processes  in  all  the 

130 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

rising  steps  of  her  seeming  progress,  showing,  it  appears 
to  me,  the  existence  of  one  universal  law.  We  cast  a 
stone  into  a  pool  and  rippling  waves  circle  to  the  banks. 
We  speak,  and  start  similar  circles  in  the  atmosphere 
about  us,  to  be  received  here  and  there  by  an  organ  made 
for  the  purpose, — the  ear.  The  human  will  gives  rise  to 
a  thought,  and  we  start  a  delicate  but  far-reaching  pro 
pulsive  force  in  just  this  same  way,  which  beats  through 
the  finer  atoms  of  the  ether, — to  be  received  by  the 
nature  sensitive  enough  to  respond.  Touch  a  string  on 
a  harp  and  it  is  not  the  wood  of  the  place  that  replies 
but  the  sister-harp  in  the  corner,  attuned  in  unison.  I 
ask  you  to  recall  if  you  can  my  argument  of  a  year 
ago  on  the  comparative  nature  of  all  life.  Try  to  thor 
oughly  assimilate  this  idea.  It  will  surprise  you  to  find 
how  much  of  a  step  it  is  to  the  fuller  conception  of  the 
ideas  of  the  omnipresent,  the  illimitable,  and  the  eter 
nal  : — expressions  much  used  but  little  understood. 

"  The  work  of  the  two  at  first  in  this  field  of  thought- 
transference  was,  of  course,  unsatisfactory.  But  having 
met  with  partial  success,  they  wrought  on  diligently 
and  understandingly,  until,  just  think!  an  avenue  of 
communication  had  been  opened  up  that  no  earthly 
distance  could  fetter. 

:<  This  success  here  opened  up  to  Carrington  a  hither 
to  undreamed-of  field  of  possibilities.  With  the  key 
now  in  his  possession  he  doubted  not  for  a  moment  but 
that  intercourse  with  the  beyond  was  possible.  The 
key?  The  same  that  makes  for  success  in  all  the  other 
walks  of  life, — Concentration.  The  air  is  full  of  yellow 
sunbeams, — comparatively  powerless  as  distributed  by 
nature ;  yet  focus  them  and  you  can  set  the  world  afire. 
So  with  the  mind.  Focus  your  thought  and  you  can 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

accomplish  wonders, — even   such  as   these.     The  mind 
and  the  will, — that  is  all  there  is  to  it. 

"  Carrington  sought  to  establish  this  line  with  all  the 
ardor  of  an  enthusiastic  nature.  For  many  weeks  in 
vain.  But  from  the  grace  which  sustained  him  through 
out  he  felt  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the  work:  that  on 
the  other  side  of  that  inscrutable  veil  we  call  death  a 
higher  intelligence  than  his  own  was  working  for  the 
same  end.  And  one  afternoon — the  air  was  strangely 
still,  and  himself  so  concentered  that  for  the  moment 
he  was  totally  oblivious  of  the  beauty  on  every  hand, — 
he  received  a  communication;  a  single  impression, — 
the  one  word  "  Thomas,"  yet  given  with  all  the  sweet 
cadence  he  remembered  so  well  in  the  days  before  death 
parted  them.  So  realistic  was  it  all  that  involuntarily  he 
looked  about  him,  while  his  heart  ceased  its  beating  for 
the  moment.  But  he  saw  nothing,  and  the  movement 
recalled  him  to  earth.  He  sought  further,  despairingly; 
but  no  more  messages  came  that  day.  The  next  he 
tried  again;  but,  too  expectant,  he  tried  in  vain.  The 
next  again ;  and  humbled  by  the  disappointment  of  the 
previous  day,  there  came  to  him  that  same  message 
"  Thomas,"  but  more  vividly  than  before,  and  dissipat 
ing  his  last  shadow  of  doubt.  He  was  already  growing 
more  responsive.  For  weeks  this  continued,  through 
less  and  less  of  disappointment;  he  at  each  success  com 
ing  more  and  more  to  understand  just  what  condition 
of  mind  was  essential  to  that  success.  Having  mastered 
so  to  say  the  elements,  the  single  impressions  in  the 
course  of  time  gave  way  to  simple  phrases,  and  later 
to  more  complex  sentences.  One  of  the  first — one 
she  had  often  used  in  their  earth-life, — gave  him  a  par 
ticular  pleasure, — the  simple  words  of  endearment, 
"  Thomas,  my  husband." 

132 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"And  then  came  the  regret  that  he  could  not  see.  But 
no  sooner  had  the  thought  found  life  in  his  brain  than 
with  a  swiftness  and  unerringness  that  was  a  revelation 
to  him  it  stood  answered.  "  Mind  is  king.  Patience 
poor  mortal."  And  true  enough,  before  long  there  came 
a  glimmer  of  light  to  him, — a  dawn  such  as  the  physic 
ally  blind  whose  vision  is  about  to  be  restored  might  be 
supposed  to  experience, — and  through  the  dissipating 
mists,  his  heart  the  while  increasing  its  beating,  he  more 
than  once  felt  sure  that  he  had  had  a  passing  glimpse 
of  the  airy  outlines  of  the  form  of  his  beloved  wife. 
Here  again  opened  up  an  era  of  alternate  failure  and 
success;  for  here,  too,  a  special  preparation  covering 
many  weeks  had  to  be  gone  through.  For  to  see  clearly 
required  a  special  control. 

"  One  day — it  was  the  first  of  his  full  awakening  into 
the  soul-life, — she  burst  upon  him  without  warning  in 
the  full  splendor  of  her  angelic  loveliness ;  her  queenly 
form  clad  in  clinging  garments  that  only  half-hid  and 
half  disclosed  its  grace  of  outline ;  her  brown  tresses 
piled  with  a  graceful  care  above  the  smooth  brow ;  her 
red  lips  smiling,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling  their  welcome. 
The  old  Rose  indeed,  but  a  thousand  times  more  beauti 
ful; — with  a  grace  accentuated  in  unnumbered  elusive 
ways  which  it  puzzled  him  for  the  moment  to  locate 
until  it  dawned  upon  him  that  it  was  not  the  old  beauty 
as  he  remembered  it  that  he  looked  upon,  but  a  soul- 
vision  with  the  cloy  and  awkwardness  of  earth  gone. 
As  the  mists  due  to  imperfect  control  of  self  cleared 
away,  he  noted  that  she  had  come  to  him  with  out 
stretched  hands  over  green  fields,  shaded  afar  with  bor 
dering  copses  and  blue  hills, — a  spot  very  like  their  fav 
orite  haunt  in  the  first  years  of  their  married  life.  She 

133 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

glided  rather  than  walked  toward  him,  and  as  she 
touched  him — he  awoke  to  find  himself  upon  the  moun 
tain  alone  with  the  tops  of  the  pines  droning  in  the 
afternoon  breeze.  He  was  faint,  and  a  cold  perspira 
tion  was  upon  him.  For  a  moment  he  believed  the 
beautiful  vision  to  have  been  a  dream;  but  with  the  re 
turn  of  his  equanimity  came  conviction,  and  the  con 
clusion  which  had  had  part  possession  of  him  for  some 
time  definitely  fixed  that  the  true  life  begins  only  at 
death's  door.  For  life  on  earth  after  all  is  but  a  span, 
while  an  eternity  awaits  us  beyond. 

"Thus  was  opened  an  intercourse  which  grew  broader 
as  time  wore  on.  Nor  did  it  cease,  though  it  was  inter 
rupted,  by  the  change  of  environment  that  came  with  his 
return  home  that  winter.  In  the  privacy  of  his  own 
chamber  he  could  always  summon  the  beloved  presence. 
But  it  was  in  the  quiet  and  charm  of  the  mountains  that 
results  were  ever  the  best,  and  with  the  earliest  signs 
of  spring  he  was  there  again. 

"  By  this  time  the  line  of  communication  had  been 
brought  to  that  perfection  that  converse  was  held  as 
fluently  as  though  they  sat  side  by  side  in  the  flesh. 
Under  these  circumstances,  after  the  first  novelty  of  his 
position  had  worn  off,  many  questions  arose  to  his 
mind;  to  be  answered  by  replies  that  impinged  with  a 
simple  directness  in  contrast  with  the  uncertain  ones 
we  usually  receive  here.  Why,  you  ask?  I  believe,  be 
cause  of  our  self-sufficiency, — we  are  not  prayerful 
enough.  But  as  few  of  these  have  direct  bearing  upon 
the  story  I  am  relating  we  will  pass  them  over,  unless 
you  feel  that  some  of  them  might  be  of  interest  to  you. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  the  same  feeling  strikes 
either  of  you,  but  to  me  there  is  a  beauty  in  this  com- 

134 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

panionship  of  the  two  that  somehow  strangely  appeals 
to  me.  I  have  read  in  tales  where  the  hero  or  heroine 
have  been  haunted  or  pursued  by  phantoms,  but  never  one 
where  a  spirit  sought  to  correct  and  sustain  the  way 
wardness  and  the  inherent  weakness  of  man  through 
words  of  cheer  and  the  highest  wisdom.  And  the  beauty 
of  it  all  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  all  true, — that  they  are 
conditions  possible  to  you  and  me  every  day  of  our  life 
here  if  we  possess  but  a  prayerful  heart  and  the  required 
amount  and  quality  of  faith. 

"  Day  after  day,  in  the  earlier  periods  of  this  com 
munion,  they  wandered  about  the  forest  in  silent  con 
verse,  or  sat  by  the  open  doorway  where  the  button- 
wood  in  the  springtime  spread  its  array  of  magnificent 
blossoms,  and  in  the  fall  its  red  seed  attracted  the  dark- 
plumaged  woodcock.  An  aimless  and  useless  life,  you 
think;  but  let  us  pause  to  remember  that  this  is  due 
to  the  particular  nature  we  have  to  deal  with;  and  that 
the  possibilities  under  the  somewhat  ideal  conditions 
which  I  am  trying  to  paint  for  you  are  by  no  means 
confined  to  the  case  in  hand.  Supposing  we  were  given 
a  man  of  superior  energy,  what  good  might  not  be  ac 
complished.  And  then  we  might  be  premature  in  our 
verdict  even  here.  Who  knows?  The  seed  has  only 
been  sown,  and  results  are  only  to  be  judged  at  harvest 
time. 

"  This  earth-life,  it  would  seem,  is  never  without  its 
hour  of  repining,  nor  do  I  believe  the  soul-life  to  be 
wholly  so  either.  Yet  it  is  well  for  us  and  the  general 
good  that  this  is  so,  that  there  is  ever  something  to 
keep  us  on  the  verge  of  expectancy,  and  in  the  moil  of 
the  sequent  states  of  discontent.  The  trouble  lay  in 
the  extremes  of  emotion  to  which  he  was  subject  be- 

135 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

tween  the  hours  of  soulful  elation  on  the  one  side,  and, 
on  the  other,  the  utter  desolation  of  his  position  on 
his  return  to  earth.  For  such  violent  revulsions  the 
body  is  in  no  wise  prepared,  and  their  effect  upon  our 
friend  became  somewhat  slowly,  but  too  surely  appar 
ent.  They  affected  his  health  in  a  general  undermin 
ing;  their  ravages  being  greater  or  less  just  as  in  pro 
portion  his  interest  was  stamped  with  less  of  earth  and 
more  of  heaven.  His  clairvoyant  periods  became  more 
and  more  protracted, — periods  of  half-stupefaction  and 
complete  absence  of  mind  to  those  immersed  in  the 
material  who  occasionally  came  upon  him  on  the  trail." 


136 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE    HYPNOTIC    INTROMISSION. 


WARING  paused  for  a  moment,  his  eyes  upon  the  fire. 
His  thoughts  had  outstripped  the  thread  of  his  narrative 
and  were  wandering  far  afield,  and  without  hindrance. 
With  an  effort  he  drew  himself  together,  looked  up  at 
us  with  an  odd  smile,  and  resumed. 

"At  times  came  reaction  when  the  ties  of  earth  re 
turned  and  for  a  time  held  him  in  a  grip  that  reminded 
him  of  the  strength  of  old.  At  such  moments  came 
thoughts  of  children,  home  and  friends.  And  one  day 
the  lost  mine. 

"  When  next  they  met  this  thought  was  uppermost. 

"  Without  a  word,  and  somewhat  gravely,  Rose  beck 
oned  him  to  take  her  hand.  He  arose  obediently,  and 
at  her  touch  felt  a  thrill,  keen  yet  pleasurable,  possess 
his  whole  being,  and  his  inner  vision  clarify  preternatur- 
ally. 

"  Through  the  trembling  mist  he  saw  slowly  appear  a 
stretch  of  mountain  forest  where  below  the  sombre  tones 
of  the  pines,  the  foliage  of  the  deciduous  growth 
had  dyed  itself  in  all  the  brilliant  color  of  fall. 
It  was  apparently  late  in  the  season — October, 
he  judged, — for  the  haze  of  Indian  summer  hung 

137 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

about  the  woods  and  the  openings  beyond.  As  he 
gazed,  spellbound,  the  lone  figure  of  a  man  appeared, 
a  dark  speck  in  that  sylvan  grandeur,  gun  in  hand. 
His  approach  was  made  carefully,  warily  in  fact,  as  if 
he  feared  an  ambush  at  every  step.  Suddenly  he  stood 
erect  as  a  lithe  body  glided  noiselessly  through  the  part 
ing  brush  upon  his  right.  It  was  the  form  of  a  moun 
tain  lion.  With  the  swiftness  of  thought  he  now  turned, 
raised  his  rifle  and  fired.  At  that  same  moment  Car- 
rington  recognized  in  the  hunter — whom?  Strangely 
enough,  himself.  Imagine  if  you  can  what  this  discov 
ery  brought  him  in  the  way  of  a  sensation.  Instinctively 
he  sought — much  the  same  as  in  this  life  we  seek  to 
grasp  two  or  more  ideas  at  one  and  the  same  time, — • 
and  while  very  much  alive  to  the  episode  enacting  be 
fore  him,  to  take  in  something  of  the  further  beyond. 
But  he  found  that  mind  was  still  mind,  and  incapable 
of  accepting  more  than  one  impression  at  a  time,  and 
that  if  he  would  lose  nothing  of  the  little  drama  un 
folding  before  him  and  yet  wished  to  behold  some  of 
the  scenes  in  the  background,  he  must  take  them  in  their 
connected  sequence.  It  took  him  but  an  instant  to  re 
alize  this;  the  next  his  attention  was  again  upon  the 
animal,  which  had  bounded  to  cover  down  a  defile  to 
the  right  where  the  dogwood  and  alder  formed  an  al 
most  impenetrable  shelter.  Very  carefully  he  followed, 
guided  by  the  blood-trail,  until  he  came  to  where  an 
other  gulch  came  down  from  the  right  to  meet  the  first, 
the  two  forming  an  acute  angle  of  some  sharpness.  It 
was  a  wilderness  of  brush  and  boulders  which  an  oc 
casional  pine  overtopped,  a  natural  cover  which  only  the 
most  intrepid  dared  penetrate  in  the  face  of  the  danger 
known  to  lurk  there.  For  a  moment  he  even  wondered 

138 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono, 

at  his  own  hardihood  and  fell  to  analyzing  his  emotions. 
It  surprised  him  rather  to  find  that  fear  was  not  a  part 
of  them. 

"  At  this  point  the  brute  had  made  a  sudden  turn  up 
ward  toward  a  wall  of  rock  which  apparently  barred  all 
progress  in  that  direction.  It  seemed  sorely  stricken, 
and  had  rested  many  times  to  nurse  its  wound,  as  the 
condition  of  the  trail  freely  attested ;  so  sorely  indeed 
that  it  seemed  often  to  have  moved  only  as  the  sound 
of  crackling  brush  came  to  it  and  told  of  the  threatening 
nearness  of  the  hunter  following.  This  fact  made  the 
task  a  doubly  perilous  one,  and  he,  Carrington,  who 
was  now  following  not  with  eyes  only,  but  with  all  his 
senses  on  a  keen  alert,  and  with  all  the  emotions  of  a 
principal,  wondered  at  the  remarkable  cowardice  of  the 
animal.  Common  report  gave  it  the  reputation  of  being 
more  than  ordinarily  dangerous  when  wounded,  and  yet, 
very  strangely,  here  under  the  most  favoring  of  circum 
stances,  not  the  faintest  attempt  at  a  stand  was  being 
made. 

"  Foot  by  foot  he  scanned  the  brush ;  foot  by  foot  he 
climbed  upward  toward  the  base  of  the  wall,  where,  he 
now  felt  convinced,  he  would  find  the  lair  of  this  queen 
of  the  mountains.  And  sure  enough  before  long  he  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  tawny  form  in  the  dusk  of  an  alcove 
formed  by  an  overhanging  rock,  her  bloody  flanks  pal 
pitating  tumultuously,  and  covered  with  the  coarse 
granite  particles,  the  dry  leaves  and  twigs  of  the  trail. 

"As  he  drew  near  she  made  the  one  stand  of  the  en 
tire  chase.  Sweeping  the  ground  in  majestic  curves 
with  her  tail  she  came  forward,  defiance  in  her  attitude, 
to  give  him  with  a  bloodcurdling  cry  a  terrifying  dis 
play  of  her  teeth.  But  this  display  of  courage  was  mo- 

139 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

mentary  only,  for  she  almost  immediately  withdrew — 
and  then  deeper  than  before, — into  the  natural  recess, 
and  trembling  with  a  fear  that  was  unaccountable. 
Slowly  and  unerringly  this  time,  he  again  raised  the 
rifle,  and  fired  the  shot  that  brought  the  trembling  form 
to  the  ground. 

"  Then  the  riddle  was  explained.  For  by  his  side 
stood  Rose,  whom  the  clear  instincts  of  the  animal — 
or  possibly  some  sense  of  which  we  know  not, — had 
undoubtedly  recognized  as  something  out  of  the  or 
dinary.  Natural  history  abounds  with  just  such  cases. 

"  He  flayed  the  brute, — her's  was  a  most  magnificent 
pelt, — and  this  done  rested  himself  for  a  moment  on  a 
rock  before  returning.  Below  him  narrowed  the  gulch 
he  was  in;  beyond  arose,  he  thought,  the  Jackass.  It 
was  all  evidently  a  part  of  the  mountain  upon  which 
he  was  housed.  He  sought  more  fully  to  locate  himself, 
but  in  vain.  Above  him  arose  the  loose  wall  of  rock, — 
a  wall  that  had  evidently  at  some  early  period  of  the 
earth's  history  been  projected  intact,  and  only  creviced 
by  the  convulsion,  from  somewhere  far  up  the  mountain. 
A  little  stream  oozed  from  above  to  water  a  few  late 
flowers  blooming  there.  He  looked  again  to  more  closely 
study  the  formation.  It  was  of  quartz,  and — his  heart 
almost  stopped  its  beating, — it  seemed  literally  alive 
with  pure  gold.  He  moved  feverishly  forward :  he  raised 
his  hand  and  broke — . 

"  Ah,  another  dream !  With  a  tremor  that  shook  his 
entire  frame  he  reluctantly  shook  himself  free  of  the 
influence  that  bound  him.  Like  one  aroused  from  a  deep 
sleep  he  looked  about  him.  The  early  morning  sun  shone 
brightly  in  upon  him,  touching  with  its  gold  the  blue 
of  giant  lupins  whose  fingerlike  foliage  shadowed  the 

140 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

bare  logs  of  the  hut  in  the  vicinity  of  the  doorstep. 
Through  the  trees  beyond  arose  the  mountains  of  the 
Jackass — almost,  it  seemed  to  him,  as  he  had  seen  them 
but  a  moment  before, — and  in  the  further  distance  the 
Minarets,  very  still  and  clear  in  the  crisp  of  the  June 
morning. 

The  vision  left  an  indelible  impression,  and  gave  new 
vigor  to  the  search  which  was  again  resumed.  The 
mine  was  undoubtedly  a  reality;  he  had  seen  it.  And 
it  was  as  undubitably  ordained  that  he  was  to  find  it. 
The  question  was  simply,  was  it  to  be  effected  through 
chance  or  a  concentration  of  effort  on  his  part?  To  a 
man  like  him  of  prearranged  action  always  there  was 
but  one  reply,  and  that  was,  through  system  of  course. 

"  He  sought  early  and  late  again,  and  once  more  to 
no  purpose.  Then  one  day  came  a  thought.  With  arms 
folded  upon  his  breast,  and  dejected  of  spirit,  he  was  re 
clining  against  a  rock  on  the  trail,  that  winds  from  the 
Gap  to  the  Chiquita.  It  was  the  end  of  June  and  all 
nature  stood  in  the  luscious  ripeness  of  midsummer. 
Suddenly  the  wonderful  truth  dawned  upon  him.  He 
remembered  that  in  that  one  glimmer  into  the  future 
which  had  been  vouchsafed  him  the  black-oaks  upon  the 
mountain's  slope ;  the  wild  cherry  of  the  thickets ;  all  the 
alders  and  buttonwoods  on  the  creek-banks ;  nay  the  very 
sumac  in  the  canyon  below,  where  the  lioness  had  come  to 
her  death,  had  stood  arrayed  in  the  vari-colored  glories  of 
autumn.  With  mind  awakened  to  the  new  wisdom  he 
slowly  returned  to  his  cabin.  In  that  one  moment  he  had 
become  a  fatalist.  Chance — and  I  may  add  that  then  al 
ready  the  significance  of  the  term  was  undergoing  a 
change  for  him, — was  after  all  to  be  the  arbiter  of  his 
fortune. 

141 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  His  policy  was  now  one  of  waiting.  Through  the 
long  summer  days  he  read  much;  pondered;  performed 
upon  his- flute;  studied  the  forest,  the  mountain  and  the 
.stream.  He  made  friends  with  the  birds,  the  squirrels, 
the  chipmunks ;  and  with  such  success  that  all  entered 
fearlessly  as  he  sat  at  his  meals,  to  be  fed  by  his  hands, 
or  to  nibble  daintily  at  the  proffered  food  upon  the  table. 
Once  he  caught  sight  of  a  half-grown  grizzly  surveying 
with  uplifted  muzzle  the  human  habitation  from  the  up 
per  end  of  the  forest  opening;  a  moment  later  resum 
ing  his  leisurely  way  as  Carrington  hallooed  at  him.  At 
times  again  he  would  drop  to  the  Chiquita  with  fly  and 
rod  to  beat  the  stream  for  trout;  generally  to  return, 
tired  and  worn,  but  with  a  generous  string,  in  the  dusk 
of  the  evening.  He  was  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 

"  Nay.  There  was  one  exception.  The  lion  whose 
haunt  he  had  disturbed  with  his  presence  would  give  him 
no  peace.  Each  summer  it  migrated,  each  fall  to  re 
turn.  It  was  plainly  to  be  war  to  the  end.  And  the  poor 
burro  stood  in  mortal  dread,  and  came  each  evening  to 
the  cabin  to  tremble  under  its  eaves.  It  made  the  heart 
stand  still  to  hear  its  cry — almost  human  in  its  cadence, 
— in  the  distant  depths  of  the  forest  when  night  had  fal 
len,  and  to  note  its  gradual  approach.  How  well  he  re 
membered  mistaking  it  one  night  for  a  human  being 
astray  in  the  woods,  and  had  answered  from  the  brink 
of  the  precipice  beyond  the  lake,  where  the  moonlight 
fell  over  the  silent,  depthless  canyon  of  the  Chiquita. 
At  times  it  became  so  malevolent  that  he  had  been 
forced  to  build  a  fire  in  self-protection.  It  was  away 
now — the  summer,  but  would  be  sure  to  return  with  the 
first  turning  leaf. 

"And  again  came  a  thought.    Was  this  animal  in  any 

142 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

way  to  be  instrumental  in  the  locating1  of  the  lost  mine? 
Was  it  in  some  inexplicable  way  the  same  which  he  had 
followed  in  his  vision?  It  seemed  indeed  unlikely,  and 
yet  strange  things  happen.  At  any  rate  the  brute  held 
a  new  interest  for  him  from  that  hour  forth." 


143 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THE   PHILOSOPHY    OF   THE   AFTER-UFE. 


"AND  from  here,  with  your  permission,"  continued 
Waring,  "  I  will  quote  you  from  the  writings  direct. 
We  are  down  to  the  more  personal  part  of  our  story, 
and  my  so  doing  will  avoid  much  useless  repetition.  I 
have  selected,  you  will  find,  only  such  parts  as  are  rel 
evant,  and  which  hold  an  interest  because  of  that  rel 
evancy,  if  for  no  other  reason. 

"At  this  point  I  find  an  entry  which  purports  to 
throw  some  light  upon  the  conditions  prevailing  in  the 
after-life.  It  may  sound  wild  and  chimerical  to  you, 
but  I  found  it  interesting  reading  enough,  and  so  will 
you,  I  am  sure.  Shall  I  read  it?" 

We  silently  acquiesced,  and  Waring  read : 

Throughout  this  period  Rose  is  my  almost  constant 
companion  and  never  a  day  passes  but  I  find  that  I 
have  absorbed  something  of  wisdom  from  the  com 
panionship.  Many  and  varied  are  the  themes  that  come 
up  for  discussion  between  us ! — children,  home,  friends ; 
our  own  happy  past;  more  often,  however,  the  future, 
— now  no  longer  the  uncertain  for  me.  The  future. 


144 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Wonderful  word !  Language  holds  nothing  more  preg 
nant  with  meaning. 

As  to  where  we  meet  I  am  somewhat  in  doubt.  Does 
Rose  come  to  earth, — or  do  I  flee  to  spirit-land?  My 
position  is  most  unique.  Our  environs  at  times  are 
such  an  intermingling  of  the  one  and  the  other  that  I 
do  not  often  know  whether  I  am  in  the  celestial  sphere 
or  still  within  the  earth's  attraction.  Possibly  we  vacil 
late  between. 

For  instance,  I  find  trees  and  flowers, — beautiful 
flowers, — great  gardens  of  them; — and  trees,  tall  and 
idyllic, — such  as  we  come  upon  occasionally  on  the  can 
vasses  of  some  imaginative  master  of  the  brush.  And 
lawns, — broad,  sweeping  ones,  without  hedge  or  break, 
that  fade  away  into  the  blue  of  distance,  or  that  of 
some  shimmering  sea  dotted  with  sails  of  idling  craft. 
These  are  all  of  earth, — and  yet  so  unlike.  For  there  is 
here  a  greater  perfection;  everything  is  more  ideal; 
there  is  less  of  the  stiffness,  of  the  imperfection,  the 
dwarfing  and  distortion  of  earth,  where  there  is  always 
some  obstacle  to  an  unrestricted  growth.  Birds  of 
sweet  song  and  gay  plumage,  delighting  at  once  both 
the  eye  and  the  ear,  hover  above  among  the  boughs; 
while  beneath  deer  sport  and  rabbits  gambol,  and  all 
the  nobler  animals  that  have,  because  of  some  kindly 
trait  in  their  natures,  endeared  themselves  to  mankind,  are 
much  in  evidence.  Children  I  find  at  play  at  every  point, 
and  the  sound  of  their  laughter  and  merrymaking  fills 
the  air. 

And  such  homes, — such  magnificent  temples  of  learn 
ing, — such  wonderful  cities  as  I  have  seen !  In  the  by 
gone  years  I  have  had  visions  of  such,  little  dreaming 
then  that  the  true  poet  is  ever  a  prophet,  and  that  there 

145 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

is  not  a  single  picture  of  his  imagining  that  is  an  ad 
vance  upon  existing  conditions  but  will  some  day  find 
its  realization  in  the  life  beyond  death.  Cities  with  broad, 
and  seemingly  interminable  boulevards,  and  open 
squares  where  matchless  marbles  dot  the  sward,  and 
fountains  play  in  a  sparkle  to  confuse  the  mind; — cities 
of  marble  and  alabaster,  dreamlike  in  the  massiveness  of 
their  edifices,  and  scintillating  as  in  the  light  of  day  in 
the  soft  self-effulgence  of  the  place ; — cities  gay  with  life 
and  color,  and  music, — the  life  of  the  crowd,  composed 
of  men  who  are  men  not  in  form  only  but  in  character 
as  well,  and  of  women  who  are  all  heart  and  womanliness 
and  not  mere  puppets  of  paint  and  powder  and  hollow 
sham,  finding  a  common  love  in  an  intercourse  with 
less  and  less  of  friction  in  it.  It  is  all  beyond  rendering 
in  words. 

There  are  no  marts  of  trade,  only  beautiful  homes 
where  souls  dwell  in  a  certain  content; — not  the  cold, 
stary,  repellant  mansions  of  our  large  cities  that  speak 
of  greed,  pomp  and  selfishness  in  every  stone,  but 
buildings  cheery  and  inviting  in  appearance, — the  re 
flex  in  short  of  the  character  that  prompted  their  up 
building.  Note  that  I  am  describing  but  a  small  section 
of  the  land,  the  section  wherein  Rose  and  her  com 
panions  have  their  abode,  and  that  every  conceivable 
condition  necessary  to  the  happiness — comparative  al 
ways  as  you  will  plainly  see, — of  any  and  every  indi- 
vidiual  can,  and  eventually  will,  be  found  by  the  indi 
vidual  affected :  that  is  to  say,  oceans  are  there  for  roam- 
ers  of  the  sea ;  great  mountain-chains  to  meet  the  loves 
of  the  Tyrolese,  the  Himalayans,  the  Andeans ;  sandy 
deserts,  brown,  bare,  and  vague  in  their  interpretation  of 
their  mission  to  man,  for  the  Nubian  and  the  Saharan ; 

146 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

winding  water-ways,  rock-bluffed,  for  the  Patagonian 
and  the  Aleut ;  and  so  on  through  the  long  category,  each 
according  to  his  desires. 

All  of  which  seemed  strange  to  me,  brought  up  in  the 
orthodox  faith,  and  for  some  time  I  sought  in  vain  for 
the  reason.  But  as  usual  in  these  matters  of  doubt, 
Rose  came  to  my  rescue  with  the  explanation  that  all 
visible  life  was  the  result  of  mental  effort,  and  that  the 
consciousness  of  it  in  man  was  wholly  a  matter  of  sen 
sation.  Rob  man  of  the  function  of  a  single  of  the  or 
gans  of  the  objective  senses  and  you  curtail  his  con 
sciousness  of  life  just  so  much.  Rob  him  of  all  and 
he  is  dead  to  the  outer  world,  or  what  we  call  the  un 
conscious  state.  But  an  inner  consciousness  lives  per- 
renial, — the  consciousness  of  the  soul. 

This  consciousness,  whether  outer  or  inner,  is  an  ef 
fect  due  to  causes  eternal  in  their  nature.  When  a  tree 
grows  up,  matures,  dies ;  when  a  flower  springs  from  the 
sod,  blooms,  seeds,  and  fades  away,  an  effect  rises  and 
disappears  within  the  limits  of  the  objective  sense,  but 
the  cause  remains,  to  extend  into  an  after-world,  there 
to  work  upon  material  ever  growing  finer,  yet  which, 
strange  to  say,  acts  upon  our  equally  refining  organs  in 
impressions  that  rise  in  the  old  familiar  forms  we  know. 

This,  however,  does  not  mean  that  a  tree  is  forever  a 
tree,  except  in  name  perhaps,  or  the  true  and  tried  house 
dog  forever  a  dog.  Nature  in  the  law  of  evolution  has 
provided  for  the  contrary.  The  graceful  elm,  the  sil 
ver  birch  of  to-day  are  not  the  stalky  fern  or  palm  of  the 
carboniferous  period.  Nor  is  the  tree — nameless  to  me, 
— which  I  see  arise  upon  the  other  side,  near  like  the 
birch  or  the  elm  I  speak  of.  They  are  things  of  a  grace 
and  beauty  beyond  words.  What  the  ultimate  may  be 
lies  hidden  in  the  far,  far  future. 

147 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Nor  does  it  mean,  again,  that  the  environs  there  are 
composed  entirely  of  types  of  life  that  have  their  origin 
or  parallels  on  earth,  for  the  after-world  teems  with  a 
life  characteristically  its  own.  For  me  to  attempt  to  de 
scribe  it  would,  of  course,  prove  useless.  For  as  I  have 
said  the  consciousness  of  life  lies  in  impressions,  these 
impressions,  again  being  the  result  of  sensations  borne  to 
the  brain  through  the  function  of  one  or  more  of  the 
media  for  the  purpose, — the  organs  of  sense.  Now,  if  this 
life  lies — as  in  this  case  it  does, — beyond  the  capacity  of 
the  organic  sense,  and  the  inner  sense  has  not  yet  found 
development  to  the  point  of  clairvoyance — in  which  case 
you  would  be  able  to  see  with  the  soul's  organ, — it  of 
necessity  lies  for  the  time  beyond  your  comprehension. 

And  then  the  spiritual  light  which  so  noticeably  ir 
radiates  the  countenances  of  all  — Rose ;  my  darling 
mother ;  the  coterie  of  friends, — to  each  member  of  which 
— strange  coincidence, — or  is  it  coincidence?  I  remem 
ber  now  having  felt  myself  particularly  attached  during 
their  sojourn  here.  I  commented  upon  it  this  very  morn 
ing.  Rose  smiled  as  she  assured  me  of  their  happiness — 
a  happiness  beyond  words — a  happiness,  she  said  in 
finitely  beyond  anything  possible  on  earth,  where  there 
are  restrictions  at  no  time  to  be  completely  shaken  off. 
There  they  were  free. 

But  happy  as  they  were,  she  continued,  their  beatitude 
was  still  comparative  only, — a  very  beginning,  as  it  were. 
I  echoed  her  words  in  surprise.  But  Rose  only  repeated 
her  assurances.  Nothing  was  perfect  but  God.  Strange 
as  it  may  sound,  there  was  a  very  eternity  of  planes 
above,  each  in  their  order  as  superior  to  the  one  next 
below  as  their's  was  superior  to  ours.  Through  all  these 
gradations  were  we  compelled  to  pass  in  the  gradual  un- 

148 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

folding  of  the  human  character,  which  made  up  the  sum 
of  the  work  of  redemption.  For  God  lay  within. 

I  have  said  every  gradation :  it  would  have  been  more 
correct  to  have  said,  every  gradation  above  the  one  to 
which  you  will  find  yourself  translated  upon  your  release 
from  the  body.  "  For  man,"  she  said,  "  is  like  the  thistle 
down  of  the  fields,  that  ripened  and  released  by  the  sun 
and  winds,  floats  here  and  there,  some  near  the  meadow- 
surface,  some  high  in  air.  Only  where  they  are  the 
sports  of  the  elements,  the  soul  is  more  under  the  im 
mediate  surveillance  and  tutelage  of  Law." 

'  Then  we  do  not  all  reach  the  same  goal  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  By  no  means." 

"Why?" 

"  Men  are  not  all  alike, — not  even  born  alike, — and 
neither  are  their  souls.  Some  are  of  better  mold  than 
others ;  so  with  their  souls.  Some  are  blessed  with 
parents  with  common-sense,  who  start  them  well  upon 
their  pilgrimage  while  still  on  earth.  Others,  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation,  have  the  sins  of  their 
fathers  visited  upon  them.  These  are  doomed  to  a 
period  of  mortal  turpitude — an  agony  worse  than  any  any 
orthodox  hell  was  ever  conceived  to  hold.  For  God 
punishes  even  more  refinedly  than  man  would.  It  is 
hell  in  truth, — the  only  hell.  Imagine  a  worse  punish 
ment  than  to  be  left  with  only  your  viler  thoughts, 
and  the  memories  of  actions  now  or  soon  to  be  re 
gretted,  and  breathing  the  atmosphere  common  to  a 
myriad  of  others,  not  one  of  whom  is  better  thart  your 
self." 

"  That  breathes  of  injustice  to  me,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  on  its  face  only,  my  friend.  Man  is,  to  a  cer 
tain  measure,  or  in  a  certain  way  at  least,  a  free  agent. 

149 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

If,  in  a  life  spent  at  the  cost  of  the  best  there  is  in  him, 
his  conscience  speaks  and  he  heeds  it  not,  it  is  but  a 
just  retribution  that  overtakes  him.  Suffering  is  the 
price  of  all  retrogression." 

"  But  is  it  always  retrogression  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Invariably  where  suffering  follows.  It  may  not  have 
been  a  step  of  yours,  but  somewhere  in  the  long  chain 
of  past  generations  a  falling  away  from  the  right — and 
that  is  God, — has  taken  place,  the  moral  law  broken." 

A  moment's  silence  came  between  us. 

"  I  noted,"  I  said  then,  "  that  in  your  first  reply  there 
was  something  of  a  qualifying  character." 

"  Yes.  For,  what  may  seem  strange,  there  is  another 
section  which  does  not  suffer,  immersed  as  it  is  in  this 
same  hell,  so  resourceful  of  poignancy  to  others.  It  is 
made  up  of  the  souls  of  those  who  have  not  yet  attained 
to  wisdom  or  felt  of  higher  things.  So  far  has  this  sec 
tion  developed  and  no  further:  in  it  the  spiritual  is  still 
latent.  It  breathes  but  its  normal  atmosphere.  You  find 
its  exemplification  on  earth,  where  one  finds  light  and 
happiness  and  another  darkness  and  discontent." 

"  Have  you  anything  in  the  way  of  a  remedy  to 
offer  ?  "  I  asked,  sadness  at  my  heart. 

"  Only  a  return  to  the  right, — to  God,"  came  the  un 
hesitating  reply. 

"And  as  this  depends  upon  the  individual,  and  an  un 
qualified  concert  of  action  in  man  is  at  no  time  possible, 
the  return  of  the  race  as  a  race,  can  never  be  more  than 
partial.  In  other  words,  a  condition  wholly  purged  of 
sin  is  not  possible  to  earth  as  long  as  man  is  the  creature 
he  is." 

"  The  race  as  a  whole  does  not  need  redemption.  It 
is  the  individual.  And  as  regards  the  partial  return  you 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

speak  of, — the  success  of  every  such  effort  lies  as  much 
with  you  as  with  every  other  being  on  earth." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ? — of  what  does  it  consist,"  I 
asked. 

"Of  the  simple  performance  of  your  duty  to  God  and 
man." 

"  But  the  injustice  still  remains.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
I  do  not  understand.  Why  should  one  be  made  to  suffer 
and  the  other  not  ?  Why  do  we  not  all  start  alike  ?  " 

"  We  do." 

"  But  you  have  just  led  me  to  infer  to  the  contrary." 

"  You  are  right ;  you  do  not  understand.  As  contem 
poraries  it  may  be  said  we  do  not  start  alike.  Take 
yourself  and  a  savage  from  the  wilds  of  Africa  for  in 
stance.  You  are  both  men ;  yet  beyond  this  you  are  no 
more  alike  than  are  a  bit  of  charcoal  and  a  diamond  the 
same.  You  are  men  in  different  stages  of  development, 
physically,  mentally,  morally,  spiritually,  and  every  other 
way.  They  are  both  carbon;  the  one  crude,  the  other 
refined. 

"  But  for  all  this  difference  there  was  a  time  some 
where  in  the  far  past  when  mankind,  as  so  many  units, 
started  from  one  common  point,  though  ages  apart ;  hence 
in  one  sense  it  may  be  said  that  all  started  alike.  But 
let  me  explain  more  fully,  for  I  see  that  you  are  sorely 
puzzled. 

"  To  begin  with,  the  conditions  essential  to  the  appear 
ance  of  man  upon  earth  were  not  the  work  of  a  moment 
as  we  are  asked  to  believe.  Many  long  ages  were  con 
sumed  in  the  attainment  of  that  point,  where  from  some 
thing  lower  man  mounted  to  that  stage  of  perfection 
where  God  in  reviewing  his  work  pronounced  it  good 
and  crowned  it  with  immortality.  And  having  reached 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

it,  it  was  the  work  of  other  ages  to  bring  about  the  dis 
appearance  of  that  period  of  mystery. 

"  Between  its  dawn  and  close  man  appeared  upon  earth, 
not  in  the  single  pair  of  the  Eden  story,  but  in  many 
pairs,  and  in  various  parts  of  the  earth, — the  conditions 
becoming  universal, — and  not  in  a  day,  but  many  centu 
ries,  possibly  even  ages,  apart, — for  the  mills  of  the 
gods  grind  slowly, — and  lastly  with  all  the  physical  pe 
culiarities  which  to-day  distinguish  the  various  races. 

"  For  man  is  not  an  after-thought,  not  the  mere  whim 
of  an  hour,  but  the  product  for  which  all  the  earthly 
forces — never  blind, — have  been  working  through  the 
long  cycles  of  the  past.  Nor  was  he  the  comparatively 
finished  product  of  to-day.  Far  from  it.  The  very  low 
est  strata  of  society  at  the  present  time,  probably,  marks 
the  flood  of  that  era  of  half-spontaneity. 

"At  this  point  then,  you  see,  we  all  started  alike. 
There  was  no  royal  road  then,  nor  is  there  before  God 
any  now.  Justice  pure  and  simple  was  then  and  is  now 
being  meted  out  to  all  alike.  But  the  first  product, 
borne  unconsciously  upon  the  tide  of  natural  progress, 
was  ages  ahead  in  the  general  development  before  the 
last  of  that  natural  growth  appeared.  Nature's  pro 
cesses,  marked  by  human  standards,  as  I  have  said, 
work  slowly,  and  it  is  very  probable  that  the  last  to  ap 
pear  was  but  little  if  any  in  advance  in  point  of  devel 
opment  to  the  first  man  to  tread  the  earth.  However 
this  might  be,  there  was  a  difference,  be  it  large  or 
small;  and  to  this  start — the  start  of  the  first-born, — > 
is  due  the  greater  difference  we  find  in  men  to-day. 

"  I  might  add  that  should  man  ever,  through  some 
totally  inconceivable  and  wholly  improbable  catastrophe, 
disappear  from  the  face  of  the  earth  and  not  a  seed  of 

152 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

him  remain,  your  globe  would  forever  remain  man-free. 
For  the  conditions  that  made  his  evolution  possible  no 
longer  exist,  and  can  under  no  circumstances  be  re 
peated  or  revived.  Leaving  all  minor  conditions  out  of 
the  question,  the  earth  as  an  earth  and  a  unit  would 
prevent  it.  For  the  earth  of  to-day  is  by  no  means  the 
earth  of  cycles  past.  It  has  lost  much — while  yet  in 
appreciable  to  human  sense  and  calculation, —  in  volume, 
and  in  axial  and  orbital  velocity;  adding  belt  upon  belt 
to  itself  in  the  process  of  matter  of  an  ever-increasing 
fineness,  and  lengthening  your  day  and  year.  Life  would 
of  course  follow  any  readjustment  of  forces,  but  it  would 
be  a  life  of  a  higher  type  than  any  now  existent  with  you, 
and  would  border  more  upon  our  own.  But  then  all 
this  is  pure  theory  and  can  never  be  realized  in  fact,  for 
die  unforeseen  never  happens  to  God.  He,  of  course,  has 
complete  control." 


153 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE   EXTENDED    SENSE. 


(AGAIN  Waring  came  to  a  pause,  for  a  few  moments 
fumbling  among  the  leaves  of  the  book  he  held  as  if 
in  search  of  a  page  of  special  interest.  Having  found 
it,  and  without  looking  up,  he  continued  the  reading.) 

"  You  have  memories  of  earth  ?  "  I  remarked  tenta 
tively  this  morning. 

"  We  have,  such  as  you  have  of  your  childhood ;  pic 
tures  losing  themselves  in  the  mists  of  time.  Why  not? 
But,"  reading  my  thought,  "  there  is  for  us  no  more 
reason  for  desiring  to  remember  the  earth-life  than  there 
is  for  you  to  remember  your  boyhood  days.  Many  are 
glad  enough  to  forget  them.  The  man  or  woman  who 
makes  life  a  success  in  the  broader  sense  of  the  word  is 
usually  not  one  to  regret  the  past,  though  he  may 
look  upon  it  with  fondness.  So  with  us.  He  alone  who 
would  recall,  if  possible,  a  course  pursued  does  that.  The 
eyes  of  the  successful  are  always  to  the  front,  feeling 
that  life's  solution  lies  there, — that  the  future,  in  other 
words,  is  the  vital  part  of  existence." 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  ?  " 

"  Yes, — and  yet  again,  no,"  Rose  answered.  "Hav- 

154 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ing  passed  Death's  portal  we  are  at  least  assured  of  an 
after-life.  But  the  great  why  of  it  all  still  lies  en 
shrouded  in  mystery." 

"For  evermore,  do  you  think?" 

"  No,  but,  as  upon  earth,  to  be  gradually  penetrated 
as  human  understanding  and  individual  character  devel 
ops.  That  secret  is  an  absolute  point  in  the  Master 
Mind,  only  to  be  solved  ages  hence  for  you  and  me,  when 
we  have  attained  to  that  perfection  which  will  permit  us 
to  stand  in  His  presence  with  impunity." 

"  With  impunity  ?  "  I  echoed,  surprised  at  her  words. 
"  Have  all  our  lessons  then  been  in  vain  ?  Is  God  not 
the  source  of  all  that  is  kindly  and  good  ?  " 

"  He  is.  God  is  love.  Whatever  betides  remember 
that.  Should  question  arise,  never  doubt  Him,  but,  for 
the  answer,  probe  deeper  within  yourself.  It  is  his 
thoughtful  care  that  provides  for  every  relationship  of 
life ; — carbon  for  the  plant ;  oxygen  for  man ;  and  yet 
a  subtler  fluid  for  our  own  existence.  For  we  breathe. 
Yet  reverse  the  order  of  Law, — give  oxygen  to  the  plant 
and  ether  to  the  man  and  you  turn  what  is  good  under 
one  set — the  natural, — of  conditions  into  the  rankest  of 
evils.  So  with  His  environments.  They  are  of  an  order 
so  high  and  rare  that  no  spirit  can  breathe  them  until 
fitted  therefor  by  a  probation  covering  ages." 

"  Then  are  those  environments  material  ?  " 

"  In  the  broader  sense  of  the  future,  yes.  For  it  is 
matter, — spirit  matter,  which  is  after  all  but  a  qualify 
ing  term.  It  is  the  essence  of  matter;  matter  in  its 
sublimest  forms,  the  quintessence  of  all  that  here  appeals 
to  you  as  color,  music,  perfume,  contact,  taste." 

"  What  are  we  to  understand  by  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  laughed,  the  sweetest  of  music  to  me. 
155 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  I  fear  little  or  nothing  where  so  few  really  under 
stand  the  properties  of  spirit  matter  even  in  its  closest 
relationship  to  matter  as  you  of  earth  understand  it.  We 
only  know  that  the  flight  of  matter  is  toward  the  spiri 
tual,  the  unseen;  that  the  earth,  and  at  a  certain  stage 
of  their  formation  all  the  stars  of  the  Universe,  owing 
to  central  forces  within,  is  constantly  throwing  off  fine 
particles  of  matter,  which  immediately  above  its  face 
constitutes  the  atmosphere  of  man,  and  at  various  heights 
above  the  planes  and  atmospheres  of  many  higher  orders 
of  beings;  that  in  short  matter  has  the  power  of  assum 
ing  as  many  varied  forms  without  as  it  has  within  the 
limits  of  the  physical  senses,  the  simplest  and  rarest  of 
which  is  the  highest.  And  as  intuitively  we  know  that 
He  is  the  Unit  from  whence  all  departs  and  to  whom 
all  returns,  you  should,  with  very  little  effort,  be  able  to 
grasp  my  meaning." 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  I  acquiesced  in  admiration. 

"  You  will  wonder  even  more  once  you  have  crossed 
into  this  borderland  of  ours.  And  your  first  subject  of 
wonder  will  be,  I  know,  the  striking  similarity  in  many 
ways  of  the  life  we  lead  to  the  one  on  earth.  We  breathe ; 
we  clothe;  we  walk, — where  distances  are  short;  we 
laugh ;  we  sing ;  we  do  many  things — very  many  in  fact, 
— that  you  do." 

"  So  I  have  perceived  from  time  to  time.  But  are  our 
senses,  being  objective,  dropped  at  death?" 

"  Not  so.  The  organs  are,  but  their  functions  are  at 
once  taken  up  by  another  set  much  more  comprehensive 
in  every  way,  and  which  are  carried  in  embryo  as  it  were 
through  the  physical  life.  There  is  no  stoppage  at  any 
moment.  In  fact  the  senses  with  which  we  are  here  en 
dowed  are  but  extensions  of  those  you  enjoy,  made  to 
•cover  a  new  and  broader  field." 

156 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

I  was  silent,  doubtful. 

"Would  you  have  evidence  of  what  I  say — of  its 
truth  ? "  she  asked  with  a  smile,  noting  my  emotion. 

I  gave  a  silent  assent.  Rose  held  out  her  hand  to  me. 
I  took  it  with  a  sentiment  of  awe. 

At  the  contact  I  felt  that  keen  thrill  surge  through  me 
once  more  which  I  so  well  remembered  experiencing  on 
the  occasion  of  my  first  intromission  some  time  previous. 
For  a  few  brief  moments  nothing  of  an  unusual  nature 
transpired,  and  I  was  beginning  to  wonder  what  the  out 
come  would  be  when  a  gentle  but  decided  increase  of 
pressure  of  the  hand  on  the  part  of  Rose  seemed  to  bring 
about  the  desired  condition.  For  a  few  seconds  my 
mind  stood  in  a  state  of  bewilderment.  Then  clearness 
came. 

"  Now  note,"  she  half-commanded,  yet  kindly,  just  as 
a  mother  would  craving  her  child's  attention. 

I  looked. 

"  I  see  nothing  unusual,"  I  said. 

"  Good.  Your  sense  then  is  what  you  would  call  nor 
mal?" 

"  In  every  way.    But  that  is  no  proof." 

Again  came  that  delighted  laugh. 

"  No.     But  now." 

There  came  another  slight  pressure  in  the  contact  of 
hands.  With  her  other  she  pointed  below  us. 

Then  I  started.  For  the  ground  beneath  seemed  slowly 
to  fade  away;  not  entirely,  but  leaving  it  of  a  transpar 
ency  and  apparent  fragility  which  made  me  shrink  in 
voluntarily  within  myself.  In  that  moment  my  sense  had 
assumed  a  strange  accession  of  power. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  I  was  assured ;  "  you  stand  on  firm 
ground.  You  can  prove  it  by  stamping  your  foot." 

157 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

I  did  so,  still  with  trepidation. 

Assured  by  the  act  more  than  her  words  I  gave  my  at 
tention  now  completely  over  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  thus 
suddenly  acquired  faculty.  The  loose,  fibrous  earth,  I 
noticed,  offered  little  or  no  impediment  to  its  exercise, 
but  I  saw  at  once  that  solids  were  not  all  alike ;  that,  in 
other  words,  while  all  were  transparent,  they  were  all 
more  or  less  so  according,  I  opined,  to  their  density  and 
specific  gravity: — showing  that  the  sense  there  follows 
the  same  general  law  which  here  restricts  the  physical 
one. 

For  a  moment  I  misinterpreted  the  demonstration. 

"  No,  they  have  not  changed,"  I  was  told  as  surprise 
arose  to  my  mind  once  more.  "  The  change  is  wholly 
within  yourself." 

By  a  slight  direction  of  the  will  on  the  part  of  Rose 
my  attention  was  once  more  rivetted  to  the  ground. 

I  now  saw  that  it,  beneath  my  feet,  was  honeycombed 
with  the  passages  of  many  underground  streams,  which 
then,  greatly  shrunken,  still  scurried  from  a  thousand 
and  one  directions  to  mingle  in  one  central  current, 
which  in  the  freshet  season  must  assume  large  propor 
tions  indeed,  if  one  may  judge  from  the  size  of  the  chan 
nel  it  has  worn  for  itself.  Originally,  I  decided  as  the 
result  of  a  more  general  survey,  immense  boulders  had 
filled  in  this  granite  concave,  worn  smooth  by  glacial 
attrition,  half  a  mountainside  having  first  blocked  the 
narrowing  outlet  of  the  defile.  Upon  this  smaller  rocks 
had  been  deposited,  filling  in  the  interstices ;  an  accretio'n 
of  yet  smaller  forming  a  third  layer  and  a  kind  of  soil, 
upon  which  in  the  course  of  time  shrubs  and  trees  had 
grown  to  heaven, — the  entire  process  probably  consum 
ing  thousands  of  years  in  the  formation. 

158 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

I  followed  with  a  curious  and  interested  eye  the  long, 
snakelike  roots  of  the  pines  and  oaks  which  supported 
in  a  network  of  snarls  and  intertwinings  the  mat  of  the 
forest  floor  and  all  its  beauty ;  and  admired,  while  I  mar 
velled  at  the  intelligence  shown,  the  adroit  manner  in 
which  every  vantage  point  had  been  seized  upon  for  the 
purpose  of  building  for  the  greatest  resisting  strength. 
It  is  God's  way,  in  the  carrying  out  of  his  inscrutable 
purpose,  to  thus  build,  and  then  destroy,  in  a  rebuilding. 
As  I  looked  I  saw  a  boulder,  depressed  by  the  weight 
put  upon  it,  splinter  with  a  crash,  and  a  readjustment 
of  the  upper  crust  take  place, — a  by  no  means  reassuring 
experience.  I  remember  now  having  heard  just  such 
muffled  detonations  before  and  wondering  at  the  cause. 

Sudden  fear  rose  to  my  mind,  and  thoughts  of  the 
danger  that  threatened  my  cabin  and  myself.  I  shud 
dered  once  more,  and  sought, — with  ludicrous  result,  I 
know, — to  tread  buoyantly. 

"  Do  not  despair,"  I  was  assured ;  "  you  at  least  are 
safe." 

A  new  enigma. 

"  I  do  not  understand.  Why  I  ?  "  I  asked,  preparing 
for  another  revelation. 

For  a  moment  Rose  hesitated. 

"  Do  not  ask  me  now :  that  will  be  explained  later. 
The  time  of  disclosure  is  not  quite  ripe." 

She  released  my  hand,  and  slowly  my  surroundings 
assumed  their  natural  conditions,  or  rather,  to  be  more 
exact,  my  unaided  sense  reasserted  itself. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  Rose  asked,  "was  there  throughout 
aught  unnatural  in  the  experience  you  underwent  ?  " 

"  In  no  sense  that  I  could  ascertain.     Apart  from  an 

159 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

attendant  feeling  of  surprise  all  was  as  natural  as  could 
be." 

"  That  is  to  say  then  that  the  impressions  received 
reached  the  sensorium  through  exactly  the  same  chan 
nels,  as  far  at  least  as  you  are  able  to  say,  through  which 
pass  the  impressions  of  your  everyday  life?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  since  you  recognized  it  as  such  even  that  feeling 
of  surprise  can  not  have  been  out  of  the  ordinary.  Now 
let  me  add  that  this  is  but  one  of  many,  or  at  least  one 
of  several,  directions  in  which  you  will  find  this  one 
sense  enlarged." 

I  remained  silent,  unable  to  follow  her  meaning. 

"  Telescopically  and  microscopically  for  instance,"  she 
continued. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  How  dull  you  are,"  she  laughed  lightly.  "  I  mean 
that  the  soul's,  or  the  spirit-eye  is  so  organized  that  by 
a  slight  volitional  effort  it  can  be  made  to,  in  a  greatly 
enlarged  scope  while  still  within  certain  elastic  bounds, 
penetrate  interstellar  space;  or  by  another  adjustment 
delve  into  that  other  world,  equally  incomprehensible, 
the  microscopic.  There  lies  a  world  undreamed  of  by 
the  many.  In  his  pride  and  ignorance  man  has  asserted 
since  the  days  of  Adam  that  the  visible  to  the  naked  eye 
marked  the  boundary  of  the  material  life,  where  the 
truth  is,  proven  in  this  later  day,  that  we  have  failed  so 
far  to  find  the  point  where  the  visible  ends,  just  as  we 
have  on  the  other  hand  failed  to  mark  the  limit  of  the 
created  heavens.  Everywhere  life  teems.  The  micro 
scopic  world  is  in  fact  as  limitless  as  the  other." 

It  was  a  new  direction.  I  was  lost  in  wonder  and  re 
mained  silent. 

160 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

*'  In  fact  the  Universe  is  one  grand  whole,"  she  con 
tinued,  "and  what  makes  it  appear  made  up  of  parts  is 
only  the  finite  nature  of  our  senses." 

"  Then  there  is  a  limit  to  the  spiritual  sense  ?  I  thought 
the  line  of  demarcation  I  noted  a  moment  ago  was  due 
to  the  fact  that  I  was  not  wholly  freed  from  earth  and  its 
ties." 

'  That  fact  certainly  had  its  bearings.  But  as  you  say 
there  is  a  certain  limit.  As  an  instance  I  cite  the  fact 
that  to  us  the  plane  of  matter, — spirit-matter  remember 
to  you — upon  which  we  have  our  existence  or  being  is  al 
most  as  opaque  as  is  your  plane  to  your  sense." 

"And  yet  I  can  not  see  it?  " 

"  If  the  will  was  all  that  was  necessary  you  would.  But 
an  organ  is  essential  to  the  conveying  of  an  impression 
whatever  its  nature,  and  that  organ  is  wisely  restricted 
in  its  powers.  Our  plane  lies  simply  just  without  the 
boundary  of  the  physical  organ.  That  is  what  I  am  try 
ing  to  make  plain.  And  now  mark  you  what  I  say.  Just 
as  the  invention  of  the  telescope  and  the  microscope  has 
made  plain  its  shortcomings  in  at  least  two  directions, 
so  some  day,  when  human  effort  is  directed  spiritward,  an 
instrument  will  be  devised  which  will  prove  to  you  of 
earth  the  truth  of  what  T  say  in  this,  a  third  direction. 

"  But  the  microscope  has  to  do  with  material  life,"  I 
corrected. 

"  Oh,  the  perversity  of  man.  There  is  no  other.  It 
was  spirit-matter,  or  the  spiritual,  so  long  as  it  had  no  ex 
istence  for  man, — that  is,  you  might  say,  until  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  microscope.  Then  it  became  material. 
When  that  prospective  instrument  I  speak  of  becomes 
a  fact  it  will  demonstrate  to  you  our  sphere  to  be  as 
much  a  natural  and  material  a  one.  'Material — and  I 

161 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

cannot  impress  this  upon  you  too  often, — is  but  a  com 
parative  term.  It  includes  all  substances  in  some  way 
palpable  to  the  senses,  and  without  regard  to  their 
density  or  any  other  property  but  those  of  a  certain 
opacity  or  power  of  resistance.  When  I  say  senses,  I 
speak  advisedly,  for  I  would  include  my  own.  And 
they  being  the  more  far-reaching,  I  think  that  they 
should  mark  the  truth  or  untruth  of  what  I  say." 

This  was  said  with  a  smile  and  a  triumphant  arching 
of  the  brows. 

"  But  as  it  is,"  she  continued  a  moment  later,  "  neither 
are  more  than  temporary.  With  new  fields  come  new 
sensations,  to  understand  which  will  require  organs 
more  sensitive  and  more  expansive  than  those  either 
you  or  I  possess  at  the  present  moment.  Wonderful 
as  they  are  they  may  be  compared  as  mere  makeshifts 
with  the  organs  of  the  future." 

"  That  should  mean  another  death,  or  a  series  of 
deaths." 

"  No.  In  the  uses  for  which  they  were  intended  the 
physical  organs  show  themselves  capable  of  adjustment 
to  any  demand  put  upon  them;  which  is  great  when  we 
figure  from  the  dull  beginning  of  infancy,  to  experienced 
old  age.  So  with  ours.  They  are  even  more  elastic,  as  I 
have  just  shown  you  in  one  direction,  and  some  time  ago 
in  another.  Our  future  has  nothing  to  do  with  expansion 
of  body,  or,  beyond  a  certain  degree,  of  soul,  but  solely 
with  growth  of  intellect  and  the  unfoldment  of  moral 
character.  In  that  development,  it  is  true,  there  is  a 
slight  throwing  off  continually  of  the  coarser  parts  of 
us, — an  unconscious  process,  the  analogy  of  which  you 
find  on  earth  in  the  unconscious  expansion  of  the  boy 
into  the  man,  but  it  is  a  change  involving  no  change 

162 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

of  organism.  No;  there  is  but  one  death,  the  death 
of  earth.  We  simply  pass,  as  we  are  successively  fit 
ted,  consciously  from  one  grade  to  another  with  char 
acter  as  our  password." 

"  You  are  at  perfect  liberty  then  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  are.  The  choice  of  all  that  goes  to  make  up 
our  existence  certainly  lies  with  us." 

"  Then  why  do  you  not  pass  on?"  I  asked,  surprised. 

"  For  many  reasons.  Can  you  remember  the  joy  we 
felt  when  we  were  children  together  and  life  was 
young,  roaming  the  fields  flooded  with  the  varying 
beauty  of  the  spring,  the  summer  and  the  fall?  That 
experience  we  repeat  here  on  another  and  nobler  scale. 
I  am  in  the  midst  of  that  enjoyment  now.  I  am  like 
a  traveller  in  a  new  country  where  much  is  novel  and 
interesting.  Then  my  loves  hold  me  here;  and  a  sense 
of  duty  I  have." 

"  Loves  ? — duty  ?     Duty  to  whom  ?  " 

"My   kind." 

"Ah,  I  understand.  I  see  you  engaged  often  in  mis 
sionary  work." 

"  Yes." 

"  But  I  find  you  always  at  work  among  your  own 
countrymen  and  women.  How  is  that?  On  earth  we 
go  among  the  heathen." 

She  laughed  lightly. 

"  That  is  where  you  of  earth  err.  Charity  should  al 
ways  begin  at  home.  It  is  a  work  assigned  us,  you 
know,"  she  continued  more  seriously,  "  from  higher 
planes  in  the  work  of  the  general  redemption." 

"  I  begin  to  understand.  And  your  allusion  to  your 
loves  ?  " 

"  Means  that  love  with  us  is  the  attracting  and  co- 
163 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

alescing  force  as  it  is  with  you.  I  remain  here  because 
the  attractions  bid  me.  I  love  the  flowers  here,  the 
trees,  the  brooks,  the  people." 

"  But  where  the  choice  to  higher  things — the  solution 
of  the  mysteries  which  here  enshroud  us, — are  yours, 
I  marvel  that  you  loiter  on  the  way." 

"  Man  upon  earth  loiters  three  score  years.  Why 
should  we  haste.  We  have  an  eternity  before  us.  It 
is  not  even  asked  of  us.  Besides  there  are  other 
reasons.  I  have  already  made  plain  that  sudden  and 
inadvisable  transmissions  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  level 
are  not  possible.  Then  I  repeat  love  rules.  You  must 
first  learn  to  love,  to  long  for  something  in  some  higher 
section  before  you  can  feel  the  desire  to  pass  on.  Until 
that  desire  comes  we  are  powerless.  That  is  why  pro 
gress  with  us  is  as  much  a  matter  of  time  as  with  you. 
But  do  not  think  us  unprogressive,  for  that  would  be  far 
from  the  truth.  Little  by  little  we  feel  the  attraction 
to  higher  things  seizing  upon  our  natures  and  calling  us 
to  the  front,  away  from  the  gods  of  our  younger 
days.  You  know  that  the  loves  of  our  youth  are  not 
those  of  our  maturer  years." 

"  Except  my  love  for  you,  my  Rose." 

"And  that  is  because  our  loves  have  kept  apace." 

********* 
And  so  time  passes. 


164 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  CHASE  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN  LION. 


DREAMS.  Mere  vaporings?  Or  have  they  relation  to 
our  past  or  future?  Have  they  relation  to  our  life  at  all, 
or  are  they  of  a  world  entirely  apart?  That,  however, 
can  not  be.  The  Universe  is  one.  And,  while  phantas- 
mic,  dreams  are  still  effects,  and  as  effects  live  only 
through  causes.  To  concede  the  existence  then  of  causes 
extraneous  to  those  upon  which  our  universe  is  based 
is  to  concede  the  existence  of  a  power  in  rivalry  to  our 
God's, — a  contingency  we  can  not  conceive  to  be,  hence 
eschew  the  idea  in  toto. 

What  relationship  then  with  our  life?  That  some — . 
the  more  beautiful  and  ideal, — may  have  connection  with 
our  future  may  well  be  imagined.  But  how  about  those 
bordering  on  the  phantasmagoric — those  where  the  ele 
mental  life — life  without  the  controlling  factors  of 
reason  and  conscience, — has  its  being  and  finds  the  time 
to  carry  out  its  diabolical  scheming.  They  can  only 
have  to  do  with  the  past, — the  world's  past,  since  the 
earth  to-day  brings  forth  no  life  in  the  least  resembling 
that  in  them  depicted.  Has  the  spirit  indeed  the  faculty 
of  recalling  all  the  vast,  interminable  past? — even  to 

165 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

that  point  where  the  first  thought  of  creation  finds  birth 
in  the  Master  Brain? 

Is  there  in  truth  a  past? — is  there  a  future? — or  is 
there  but  a  now?  I  begin  to  doubt.  In  the  round  of 
the  eternal  we  must  concede  the  existence  still  of  that 
primary  law  that  presides  over  the  birth  of  worlds ;  for 
to  do  otherwise  would  be  to  admit  the  beginning  of  an 
end,  and  the  enthronement  of  the  finite.  And  that  the 
law  which  on  the  other  hand  oversees  the  extinction  of 
worlds  also  prevails  we  too  must  admit,  as  our  astronomy 
abounds  in  instances  where  suns  have  disappeared  from 
our  ken  wrapped  in  a  mystery  that  can  only  be  ex 
plained  in  the  surmise  that  they  have  returned  to  the 
elemental  form.  No, — no.  The  laws  of  the  Most  High 
are  eternal.  There  is  naught  but  a  present.  Beyond  the 
gates  of  Death  the  mystery  of  life,  we  will  find,  lies  re 
vealed  from  the  beginning, — lies  mapped  out  to  the  end, 
— and  what  we  know  as  change  lies  really  in  the  indi 
vidual  in  his  contact  with  those  laws,  and  to  that  un 
accounted  property  we  call  growth. 

Usually  there  is  a  chain  of  intelligent  action  running 
like  a  golden  thread  through  every  dream  that  is  normal, 
whatever  may  be  said  of  the  sanity  or  reverse  of  its 
setting.  And  mine  was  normal, — that  is  to  say  it  was 
not  brought  about  or  influenced  so  far  as  I  am  able  to 
say  by  any  indisposition  of  body.  I  had  been  out  all 
morning  upon  the  mountain  in  a  search  for  deer,  and 
fatigued  in  body  but  perfectly  clear  and  bright  of  mind, 
was  napping  the  late  afternoon  away  seated  in  the  door 
way,  my  head  pillowed  against  the  rude  frame.  The 
dream  that  came  to  me  I  can  not  describe :  nor  does  it 
matter.  I  will  not  even  say  that  this  time  it  bore  any  in 
telligent  relevancy, — such  as,  for  instance,  where  the 

166 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

spiritual  thread,  broken  in  the  awakening,  is  taken  up 
by  the  material  life  in  a  strange  continuance.  And  yet 
again  it  must  have,  for  it  was  this  very  thing  that  took 
place.  I  only  remember — and  happily  it  is  all  we  re 
quire, — that,  as  it  progressed,  in  the  turmoil  of  an  action 
I  can  not  interpret,  there  came  to  me  a  faint  and  distant 
cry, — a  cry  not  as  a  thing  apart,  but  as  a  part  of  the  filmy 
tissue  of  my  dream, — a  cry  that  repeated  itself  with  such 
swelling  insistence  that  gradually  it  drew  apart  and  be 
came  a  thing  distinct,  and  so  full  of  a  vindictiveness, 
and  a  horror  to  ice  the  blood,  that  I  awoke. 

Life,  taken  in  all  its  ramifications,  is  certainly  a  curious 
thing.  In  that  first  moment  of  awakening  I  thought  I 
had  dozed  but  a  moment.  Then  I  realized  that  I  must 
have  soundly  slept  for  more  than  two  hours.  The  sun 
had  set,  and  even  across  the  canyon  the  reflected  flush 
of  sunset  had  cooled  into  the  gray  of  the  coming  night. 
It  was  in  fact  twilight,  and  the  shadows  of  evening  were 
fast  filling  the  depths  of  the  woods.  Not  a  sound  dis 
turbed  the  quiet;  the  tall  pines  stood  spectral-like  in  the 
uncertain  blend  of  light  and  dusk.  Yet  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  crags  had  not  yet  ended  the  re-echoing  of  that 
last  thrilling  cry  of  my  dream.  The  very  silence  was 
palpitant  with  its  burden.  The  cold  shiver  of  an  unname- 
able  fear  seized  upon  me. 

My  ass  had  drawn  near,  and  now,  with  a  harshness 
that  grated  upon  my  high  strung  nerves,  filled  the  forest 
with  a  prolonged  bray.  To  me  it  seemed  an  answer, 
and  to  be  vibrant  with  a  terror  which  for  the  moment 
I  could  not  understand.  Then  again  came  the  cry  of 
my  dreaming,  shrill,  blood-curdling,  filling  the  canyon 
with  its  horror.  In  a  moment  I  had  recognized  it,  and 
I  laughed  quietly  to  myself.  It  was  the  lion  returned. 

167 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

It  was  still  some  distance  away, — down  the  canyon 
below  the  shelving  rock.  I  took  up  my  rifle  and  went 
to  the  brink  to  reconnoiter.  For  half  an  hour  its  weird 
cries  were  repeated  at  intervals  of  a  few  minutes,  and 
ever  at  gradually  approaching  distances.  Then  they 
worked  away  to  the  left,  where  as  gradually  they  were 
lost  in  the  distance  there.  With  a  sigh  of  relief  I  re 
turned  slowly  to  the  cabin  in  the  blur  of  the  woods. 

I  built  a  little  fire  by  the  corner  nearest  the  doorway 
to  cheer  me,  for  I  was  not  completely  over  that  first 
spasm  of  fear.  Then  for  an  hour  I  hung  over  it  in  a 
profound  reverie,  adding  a  stick  every  now  and  then  in 
an  absent-minded  way  as  the  fire  burned  down  and  the 
encroaching  darkness  suggested  to  me  the  need.  Then 
I  rose,  stretched  myself  with  a  lazy  feeling  of  pleasure, 
and  was  about  to  enter  my  cabin  for  the  night,  when 
startlingly  near  this  time,  and  from  the  upper  end  of  the 
glade,  the  cry  was  repeated. 

The  unexpected  sound  made  my  hair  stand  on  end. 
For  a  moment  I  stood  rooted  to  the  ground,  unable  to 
move  hand  or  foot.  Then  I  hastily  replenished  the  fire 
once  more,  seized  a  burning  brand  and  started  another 
on  the  corner  diagonally  back  of  the  first.  When  these 
flared  up,  and  the  sparks  fled  in  showrers  among  the 
branches  overhead,  they  filled  the  flat  with  an  unbroken 
circle  of  lurid  light  wherein  the  trunks  of  the  pines  cast 
dancing  shadows  and  the  granite  boulders  stood  impres 
sive  in  their  massiveness.  For  a  time  the  glare  was  dis 
concerting,  and  the  shrieks  of  the  animal  ceased.  But  it 
was  for  a  short  time  only.  Gaining  courage  with  the 
passing  of  time  and  my  seeming  impotence,  it  again  ap 
proached,  and  its  shadowy  form  was  ever  and  anon  to  be 
seen  circling  in  the  murk  of  the  further  forest. 

168 


The  Lost  Aline  of  the  Mono. 

Never  has  it  shown  such  venom.  It  appeared  as  if  its 
one  purpose  was  to  arouse  in  me  a  feeling  of  rancor  in  the 
hope  that  at  some  time  of  its  greatest  fury  I  would  be 
led  into  an  indiscretion.  But  reason  held  unruffled  sway 
in  my  brain  throughout,  and  every  indiscreet  display  of 
the  slinking  body  only  ended  in  its  becoming  the  mark 
of  my  rifle.  And  in  my  mind,  too,  I  was  resolving  all 
the  while  on  the  morrow  to  put  an  end  for  all  time  to 
the  animal's  threatened  depredations. 

My  marksmanship  also  had  its  deterrent  effect.  I 
noted  with  satisfaction  that  after  each  shot  the  circles 
described  were  always  enlarging  ones,  and  that  all  its 
movements  were  of  a  more  guarded  nature ;  and  when 
one  shot  better  than  the  rest  brought  a  sharp  growl,  part 
of  pain,  but  more  of  surprise  and  sullenness  at  the  un 
looked-for  nature  of  the  attack,  I  saw  it  no  more.  Fif 
teen  minutes  later  its  cry  came  to  me  once  more  from 
far  up  the  gulch,  where  it  was  repeated  a  number  of 
times,  when  all  was  still.  I  now  labored  to  bring  in  some 
of  the  larger  wood  so  that  my  fires  should  not  die  down 
while  I  slept.  Then  for  another  brief  period  I  hung 
about,  half-dreading  the  beast's  return.  But  all  remained 
quiet  and  I  entered  the  cabin,  carefully  fastened  the  door, 
and  sought  my  night's  repose. 

********* 
Early  this  morning — it  is  the  mellow  autumn, — rifle  in 
hand  I  took  up  the  chase.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding 
the  trail  of  the  brute.  Its  last  fading  cries  had  come 
to  me  from  afar  up  the  wooded  gulch  between  the  two 
domes  to  the  north  and  west.  It  is  a  bit  of  my  immediate 
surroundings  which  has  never  had  my  attention  until  to 
day  as  its  general  appearance  had  proclaimed  it  as  im- 

169 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

passable.  Nor  is  this  impression  much  belied  by  actual 
fact,  for  boulder  and  shrub  hem  easy  progress  on  every 
side.  But  it  evidently  was  the  natural  channel  of  ingress 
into  the  nook  of  the  brute  for  a  wellworn  trail  worms 
itself  through  the  brush  from  over  the  saddle  and  the 
country  beyond. 

This  I  followed  very  carefully,  on  all  fours  most  of 
the  time,  and  always  on  the  alert  for  a  sudden  appear 
ance  of  the  animal.  Arrived  on  the  other  side  I  dropped 
relieved  to  the  open,  wooded  bench  some  distance  below. 
It  was  upon  a  part  of  the  mountain  altogether  new  to 
me.  A  chain  of  dry  meadows  fringed  with  hazel  swung 
down  from  the  left  and  intercepted  my  path.  Across  this 
chain  I  passed.  Here  I  lost  the  trail,  the  open  nature  of 
the  country  making  it  unnecessary  for  the  animal  to  con 
tinue  upon  a  fixed  path.  I  paused  for  a  moment  in  in 
decision  to  look  about  me.  The  forest  was  grand,  sombre, 
silent  in  the  early  morning  light, — the  dark  pine  trunks 
rising  straight  to  heaven,  the  green  immobile  canopy 
overhead.  But  below,  the  underbrush — the  few  gnarled, 
beechen-stemmed  aspens  on  the  meadow,  the  hazel,  the 
vast  oaks  here  and  there  interspersed,  were  gay  with 
color.  A  jay  broke  the  silence  which  reigned  like  the 
spirit  of  prayer  about,  and  a  squirrel  nibbled  audibly  at 
a  cone  far  up  among  the  branches  of  a  pine.  Then  like 
a  flash  an  idea  came  to  me.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  re 
velation.  I  looked  about  me  with  a  peculiar  searching. 
Had  the  hour  come?  Yea,  surely;  for  the  scene  was 
growing  strangely  familiar.  It  seemed  to  me  as 
if  I  had  been  over  all  that  ground  before.  Half-instinct- 
ively  I  turned  to  my  right.  Yes;  it  was  by  yon  group 
of  sugarpines — .  As  if  in  corroboration  a  lithe,  tawny 
body  moved  among  the  underbrush,  then  sprang  crouch- 

170 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ingly  upon  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  pine,  which  lay  its  length 
a  short  distance  before  me.  Without  the  least  hesitation 
I  raised  my  rifle  and  fired,  giving  no  thought  whatever 
to  the  possible  consequence.  My  aim  was  good;  with  a 
snarl  the  animal  half-turned  and  with  a  bound  disap 
peared.  With  every  sense  now  preternaturally  awake  I 
followed  .  Yes;  there  was  the  defile  down  which  it  had 
disappeared  in  my  dream,  with  its  covert  of  dogwood 
and  alder  in  autumn  garb.  With  a  sudden  and  unflinch 
ing  faith  in  the  result  I  sprang  in  excited  pursuit. 

As  I  fully  expected,  some  distance  down  came  in  that 
side  ravine  to  form  the  acute  angle  which  I  remembered, 
and  up  which  the  lioness  had  turned — if  my  dream  was 
to  come  true.  A  moment, — then  a  turn, — and  there  stood 
the  overhanging  wall  of  rock  with  its  shadowy  alcove, 
tenanted  a  moment  later  by  the  treacherous  beast;  the 
wilderness  of  brush  and  boulder, — the  overtopping  pines ; 
to  my  left  beyond,  the  Jackass,  just  as  I  remembered 
seeing  it. 

In  my  bewilderment  my  heart  almost  ceased  its  beat 
ing,  and  I  might  have  been  pardoned  if  at  that  moment 
I  had  forgotten  all  else  in  my  eagerness  to  reach  that 
spot, — the  focal  point  of  all  my  thoughts  and  labors  for 
the  past  four  or  five  years.  But  the  truth — which  is  often 
stranger  than  fiction, — is  that  all  thought  of  the  mine 
for  the  moment  was  strangely  absent  from  my  mind. 
The  ardor  with  which  my  object  has  been  pursued  has 
paled  much  of  late.  A  change  has  come  over  me  in  many 
ways,  but  chiefly  in  mind  and  spirit.  Much  thought 
have  I  given  to  the  discourses  I  have  had  with  Rose, — 
to  the  wonderful  conditions  obtaining  in  the  afterworld ; 
and  the  thought  now  uppermost,  together  with  a  dazed 
feeling  of  wonder,  was  the  unerring  manner  in  which 

171 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

the  scenes  of  my  intromission  of  months  back  were 
being  realized.  I  have  never  heard  its  parallel.  For  one 
moment  only  was  I  brought  sharply  to  myself,  and  to  a 
sense  of  the  danger  I  was  incurring.  That  was  when  the 
animal  made  its  stand,  and  turned  upon  me  with  that 
formidable  display  of  its  ivories,  giving  vent  to  a  blood- 
curling  cry  that  echoed  and  re-echoed  along  the  moun 
tain-side.  With  a  little  more  care  given  my  aim  I 
again  raised  my  rifle  and  fired, — this  time  the  shot  that 
brought  the  noble  feline  to  the  ground.  Without  a  sound 
it  dropped,  quivered  for  a  moment  and  then  was  still. 

Then  I  relapsed  into  my  previous  state  of  mental  tor 
por  ...  I  flayed  the  lioness  with  the  feelings  of  a  man 
doing  a  duty  perfunctorily, — the  task  of  another  which 
somehow  had  been  imposed  upon  me.  It  was  not  until 
I  was  resting  from  my  labor  upon  a  rock  near  by  that  a 
semblance  of  clearness  came  to  me.  Then,  half-mechan- 
ically,  and  in  an  effort  to  locate  myself,  I  ran  my 
thoughts,  link  by  link,  over  the  odd  chain  of  events  as 
I  remembered  them  in  that  clairvoyant  hour  months  ago, 
to  the  moment  of  my  flaying  the  animal  and  my  later 
reclining  on  the  rock.  It  was  a  necessary  step  to  the 
complete  restoration  of  myself  to  my  wonted  compo 
sure.  What  had  followed  ?  Ah,  yes ;  I  remembered. 
I  turned,  still  half-bewildered,  rose,  and  stepped  to  the 
cliff,  my  last  shadow  of  doubt  and  mystification  dissi 
pating. 


172 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE    DISCOVERY    OF    THE    MINE. 


ALL  has  come  true.  There  stood  the  long-lost  mine, 
a  wall  of  dessicated  quartz,  half  hid  in  a  tangle  of  shrub 
bery.  I  have  not  been  played  false  in  a  single  par 
ticular.  To  me  it  seems  rich  beyond  reckoning.  Its 
full  extent  I  can  but  conjecture  owing  to  a  maze  of 
tumbled  boulders,  and  the  rank  growth  of  brushwood 
which  covers  the  steep  slopes  which  here  shelve  sharply 
from  both  sides  to  the  gully  which  drains  the  place,  and 
in  which  a  trickle  of  water  keeps  the  grasses  green,  and 
nourishes  a  few  late  flowers.  As  die  swirl  of  secret 
excitement  following  upon  my  discovery  subsided,  and 
I  gradually  came  once  more  to  control  myself,  I  grew 
observant.  I  noticed  then — what  had  struck  me  months 
before — that  it  was  a  loose  wall  which  somehow  in  some 
far  geologic  age  has  become  transfixed  in  the  narrow 
gateway  of  the  gulch,  and  that  it  formed — what  toys  we 
are  in  the  hands  of  the  higher  powers, — the  coping  so  to 
speak,  of  the  nook,  over  the  rim  of  which  is  had  that 
entrancing  view  of  the  distant  mountains. 

173 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

I  actually  laughed  aloud  at  this  irony  of  fate.  For 
four  long  years  had  I  searched  so  faithfully, — so  with 
out  complaint;  for  four  long  years  had  I  lived  within 
a  bow's  shot  of  my  goal.  Are  our  paths  indeed  ordained  ? 


And  now  that  I  have  found  it  what  is  it  to  me  ?  I  feel 
no  jubilation  of  spirit  such  as  I  had  pictured  to  myself 
many  times  in  the  days  when  the  fever  of  search  was 
strong  upon  me,  nay,  not  even  the  most  ordinary  satis 
faction.  Is  it  that  the  half-conscious  growth  which  is  the 
result  of  my  subconscious  communions  has  raised  me  to 
a  plane  above  the  reach  of  that  common  love  which  is  the 
root  of  all  evil  ?  I  have  even  come  to  wonder  by  what  a 
fatality  I  have  come  to  spend  so  many  years  upon  a  pro 
ject  of  so  fleeting  a  nature. 

Such  were  my  thoughts  as  slowly  and  somewhat  de 
jectedly,  with  pelt  slung  across  my  shoulder,  and  rifle 
in  hand,  I  returned  in  the  high  glory  of  noon  to  the  se 
clusion  of  my  cabin. 


With  to-day  has  come  a  change  of  mood,  and  with  the 
change  another  train  of  thought.  It  is  one  of  those  peri 
odic  changes  or  reactions  of  which  I  have  made  mention 
earlier  in  these  pages.  For  the  nonce  the  visionary  has 
disappeared  in  the  man  of  the  world.  I  am  giving  the 
matter  saner  thought,  more  leisurely  consideration,  am 
weighing  all  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  situation.  To-day 
I  can  not  but  see  the  powerful  advantage  the  possession 
of  all  this  vast  wealth,  now  within  my  grasp,  will  give  me. 
After  all  wealth  in  itself  is  no  serious  objection, — in 

174 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

itself  holds  no  harm.  It  is  only  when  the  loves  of  man 
appear  in  connection  that  the  propensity  for  good  or 
evil  comes  to  the  surface.  It  all  depends  upon  the  in 
dividual  and  the  use  to  which  it  is  put.  But  there  shall 
be  no  doubt  in  the  world  as  concerns  me;  and  in  the 
event  of  my  speedy  demise — and  I  feel  it  within  me 
that  I  am  not  here  for  long-, — and  the  passing-  of  my 
fortune  to  my  children,  I  will  still  vouch  for  its  use  in 
a  good  purpose.  Some  grand  project  for  the  general 
uplift  of  humanity — its  exact  nature  I  leave  for  future 
decision, — shall  be  the  result  of  its  expenditure. 


But  I  am  growing  old  and  unfit  for  this  world.  My 
health  is  being  generally  undermined;  I  know — a 
knowledge  that  has  been  mine  now  for  some  time, — • 
that  I  have  become  subject  to  a  weak  heart  and  may 
at  any  moment  be  called  away  to  that  other  world. 
What  if  it  should  be  before  I  can  share  the  knowledge  of 
my  discovery  with  my  children,  and  through  them 
with  the  world?  I  am  assured  to  the  contrary  by  Rose 
and  her  companions,  but  a  nervous  fear  possesses  me 
nevertheless.  The  task  of  the  moment  is  plainly  evident 
to  ensure  to  the  future  as  far  as  is  possible  the  location 
of  this  fabled  mine.  It  seems  woefully  insufficient  in 
view  of  the  sequestered  nature  of  my  abode  and  the 
tenuous  chance  of  some  stranger  falling  upon  it,  but 
it  is  the  best  at  my  command. 


In  the  cool  of  my  cabin,  where  the  stray  sunbeams 
through  the  chinks  of  the  roof  form  a  twilight  of  se- 

175 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

ductive  beauty,  and  the  tranquility  is  invaded  at  times 
by  the  buzzing  of  a  yellow- jacket,  or  the  softer  flutter 
ing  of  a  butterfly  in  its  passage  in  through  the  door  and 
out  through  the  chimney,  I  am  drawing  up  an  elaborate 
map  of  the  vicinity.  I  am  taking  no  chances.  Every 
point  of  any  prominence  at  all, — all  the  little  streams 
and  half-blind  trails, — find  a  place  upon  it.  At  the 
same  time  I  am  writing  up  data  in  confirmation.  When 
these  are  completed  I  will  roll  them  together,  tie  them 
with  a  ribbon  which  somewhere  I  found  among  my  pos 
sessions,  and  place  them  beyond  the  reach  of  any  damp 
or  marauding  vermin  in  a  metal  tube  I  have  secured. 
Should  the  worst  come  I  still  have  faith  in  the  powers 
and  love  of  my  Rose. 


Home  again.  A  month  has  passed  since  the  date  of 
my  last  entry.  A  week  or  ten  days  after  the  date  of 
that  entry  came  the  first  storms  of  winter  and  I  re 
turned  to  the  plains.  On  the  way  out  I  stopped  over 
night  at  the  clearing  to  share  with  my  old  shake-mak 
ing  friend  the  knowledge  of  the  good  fortune  which 
has  overtaken  me,  first  pledging  him  to  absolute  secrecy. 
Arrived  here  I  have  confided  the  documents  recently 
completed  to  the  safe-keeping  of  Ida,  particularly  im 
pressing  upon  her  their  value  and  importance. 


The  spring  once  more  is  here,  and  as  the  time  for 
my  periodic  return  to  the  mountain  draws  near  it  is 
with  the  growing  feeling  that  it  is  to  be  for  the  last 
time; — a  feeling  that  finds  its  origin  more  in  the  nature 

176 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

of  a  premonition  than  in  any  knowledge  I  have  of  a 
more  stable  character.  The  long  winter  nights  I  have 
passed  in  relating  to  Ida  all  the  wonderful  story  of  my 
life  in  the  nook; — a  story  which  she,  being  younger  in 
experience,  and  therefore  more  skeptical,  has  accepted 
with  some  mental  reservations.  But  the  tale  has  grown 
upon  her;  a  greater  faith  has  come;  and  when  I  shared 
with  her  to-day  also  this  emotion  presaging  our  last 
good-bye,  there  came  to  her  too,  as  in  a  flash,  this  dread 
which  ere  the  year  is  out  is  to  culminate  in  certainty. 
With  the  warm  tears  of  love  in  her  eyes,  and  her  young 
heart  torn  with  an  anguish  that  a  father  alone  can 
fathom,  she  beseeches  me  to  remain  with  her.  Useless 
pleading: — with  the  appearance  of  the  first  snowflower 
upon  that  eastern  slope  I  must, — I  will  be  there. 


Once  more  the  mountains, — the  eternal  mountains ! 
How  I  love  them !  Nature  is  just  awakening, — at  times 
seems  uncertain  of  the  hour, — relapses  for  days  at  a  time 
back  to  winter  sleep, — then  to  awake  with  a  greater  cer 
titude  and  life.  The  days  are  gray  and  chill;  but  fuel 
is  plentiful;  the  chimney  broad;  the  fire  cheery,  and  life 
again  full  of  interest.  Great  fields  of  snow  still  encloak 
the  mountain  above;  but  about  me  the  grasses  are  up, 
the  brush  is  throwing  out  fresh  shoots,  and  my  burro 
finds  good  pasture. 


I  feel  somehow  that  the  threads  of  my  life  are  focus- 
fng  themselves  for  an  important  event.    Have  they  to  do 

177 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

with  those  preparations  I  see  being  made  upon  the  other 
side  of  that  veil,  the  passing  of  which  we  call  death,  and 
which  rather  mystify  me? 


178 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


IN    WHICH    THE   HERMIT  S   END   IS   ANNOUNCED. 


FOR  there  beneath  the  trees  that  rise  about  the  abode 
of  Rose  and  its  fronting  parterres  of  flowers  has  ap 
peared  a  mysterious  and  unoccupied  couch,  pillowed, 
and  soft  with  downy  coverings.  Just  when  it  first  ap 
peared  I  have  no  recollection,  but  probably  some  little 
time  before  I  became  impressed  by  the  strange  insist 
ence  of  its  presence.  It  is  a  shaded  spot,  and  a  breeze 
warms  and  yet  cools  it  pleasantly.  Birds  sing  above, 
and  there  is  the  soft  splash  of  fountains.  Cordials  rest 
upon  a  table  close  by,  and  fruits  and  viands,  such  as 
have,  since  my  earliest  schooldays,  always  been  associ 
ated  in  my  mind;  with  thoughts  of  the  revelries  of  the 
gods  of  the  ancients.  Occasionally  in  my  clairvoyant 
flights  I  come  upon  Rose  seated  by  it  with  a  smile  of  ex 
pectancy  upon  her  face ;  sometimes  with  a  few  friends 
in  attendance  but  more  often  alone.  For  there  privacy 
is  sought,  and  held  sacred,  just  as  here. 


179 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

This  morning  the  mystery  was  made  light. 

I  found  Rose  as  usual  seated  by  the  couch  with  that 
far-away  look  in  her  eyes  that  I  have  seen  there  so 
much  of  late,  two  young  sprites  sporting  a  short  distance 
away. 

"  You  are  expecting  a  friend  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  am  expecting  a  spirit  from  earth,"  she  answered 
me  simply. 

I  can  not  understand  the  unseen  connections  of  this 
life, — what  something  it  was  that  prompted  me  to  the 
next  question. 

"  Might  it  be  possible  that  we  are  acquainted?  But 
of  course,  since  your  friends  were  always  my  friends." 

Rose  smiled. 

"You  do." 

She  regarded  me  with  the  tenderest  love  and  pity  in 
her  eyes. 

I  paled,  for  suddenly  it  flashed  upon  me  that  it  was 
myself  for  whom  she  was  waiting. 

"  With  all  you  have  seen  and  all  you  have  heard  of 
the  conditions  prevailing  in  our  world  do  you  still  fear 
death  ? "  she  asked,  noting  the  perturbation  upon  my 
countenance. 

I  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying, — a  moment 
given  up  to  a  searching  self-scrutiny.  Its  result  I  con 
fess  proved  far  from  flattering. 

"  Can  man  ever  wholly  shake  it  off  ?  "  I  answered  her. 
"  I  fear,"  I  continued  in  great  humility,  "  that  I  am  at 
best  but  human  and  have  in  me  still  that  feeling  of  un 
certainty  which  everywhere  seems  to  attend  thoughts 
of  death." 

"  Because  of  convictions  half  formed, — because  of  the 
want  of  the  true  faith." 

180 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  Yet  I  feel,"  I  continued  with  a  sublimer  air,  "  that 
I  can  be  brave  when  my  hour  comes." 

"  Nobly  spoken.     My  friend,  your  hour  has  come." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  I  fenced  vaguely. 

"  I  mean  that  your  days  on  earth  are  numbered.  We 
have  the  knowledge  from  the  higher  powers." 

Doubtful  I  remained  silent. 

"  Powers,"  she  continued  with  a  gentle  insistence, 
"whose  penetration  of  the  future  is  deeper,  and  whose 
wisdom,  because  of  a  broader  experience,  is  profounder 
than  our  own." 

It  seemed  incredible,  and  further  doubt  rose  in  my 
mind. 

"When,  then,  do  I  die?" 

"  I  can  not  say." 

I  breathed  relieved  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  You  will  die  suddenly." 

"And  know  of  it  days,  weeks,  possibly  months  ahead  ?" 
I  asked  amazed. 

"  Without  this  fore-knowledge  it  would  be  sudden, — 
sudden  because  unexpected." 

"  But  how  can  anything  unlooked-for  be  foretold  ? — 
an  accident  ?  " 

"  There  are  no  accidents.  Everything  is  the  result  of 
law,  and  therefore,  in  a  manner  foreordained." 

I  shook  my  head,  still  in  doubt. 

"  Listen,"  said  Rose.  "  Note  this  ant  here  upon  your 
table  in  its  everyday  pursuit  of  food.  Does  it  know,  do 
you  think,  of  the  death  which  impends  as  you  raise  your 
hand  to  crush  it?  No.  To  its  fellows,  however, — grant 
ing  for  a  moment  that  they  have  the  intelligence  to  ap 
preciate  the  fact, — its  death  would  appear  sudden.  It 
was  unnatural, — out  of  the  ordinary.  Yet  you,  being  of 

181 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

a  higher  type  of  intelligence,  and  with  a  greater  hold 
on  life  because  of  that  intelligence,  know  of  it  minutes, 
hours,  if  you  will,  beforehand." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  in  silent  perplexity. 

"  That  is  what  you  call  fate." 

"  And  foreordination  ?  Are  we  then  thus  the  play  of 
the  higher  powers  ?  " 

"  God  in  his  infinite  wisdom  has  ordained  that  they  be 
beneficent  ones." 

"And  yet  they  crush  ?  " 

"  Nay,  you  mistake ;  not  the  higher.  The  desire  to 
inflict  pain  or  suffering  is  altogether  foreign  to  them. 
They  would  elevate.  The  impulse  to  crush  bespeaks 
the  lower  orders, — the  purely  animal." 

"If  that  then  is  fate,  what  is  providence?" 

"  Fate  and  providence,"  she  smiled,  "are  a  mere  in 
terchange  of  words  with  their  meaning  dependent  upon 
the  individual  affected.  An  act  is  both  fateful  and  pro 
vidential  always  at  one  and  the  same  time.  In  other 
words,  there  is  a  silver  lining  to  every  cloud.  To  il 
lustrate  we  will  again  take  up  this  colony  from  which 
we  just  now  drew  our  analogy.  Here,  you  see,  is  a 
member  tussling  with  a  seed  far  too  large  for  it  to 
handle  with  comfort.  And  here  comes  another  not  so 
fortunate  foraging  for  something  it  might  bear  away  to 
the  general  store.  We  rob  the  first  to  place  our  booty 
in  the  path  of  the  other.  Now  note  the  bearing  of  the 
act  upon  the  individual.  It  was  an  act  of  providence 
to  one,  a  disaster  to  the  other." 

"  It   was   robbery." 

"  It  was,  from  man's  point  of  view.  And  as  such  it 
might  even  have  been  regarded  among  them  had  one  of 
their  own  kind,  or  some  agency  within  the  scope  of  their 
comprehension,  seized  upon  the  prize." 

182 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  But,  you  argue,  where  a  power  of  which  they  know 
naught,  and  in  a  manner  the  operation  of  which  they 
do  not  understand,  intervenes,  it  is  either  Fate  or  Pro 
vidence. 

"  Just  so." 

"  Does  it  matter  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,  for  God  controls  the  situation  and 
works  His  will  in  either  case;  and — however  doubtful 
we  may  be  at  times, — always  for  the  general  good.  God 
is  above  all  things  impersonal,  and  in  this  impersonality 
lies  His  power  to  see  clearly  and  justly.  He  loves  you — ." 

"  But  He  loves  my  enemy  as  well." 

"  Yes.  And  the  fact  that  he  may  be  a  saint  and  you 
a  sinner  makes  no  difference.  He  loves  all  things ; — 
not  for  the  perfection  to  which  they  have  been  brought, 
but  for  what  lies  in  them,  the  power  of  being  moulded 
into  something  higher  and  better, — in  other  words,  their 
perfectibility." 

"  I  can  imagine,"  I  said  in  a  sort  of  rapture,  "an  artist 
whose  ardor  is  such  that  he  finds  an  almost  equal  pleas 
ure  in  the  contemplation  of  his  pigments,  and  the  power 
for  beauty  latent  within  them,  as  in  the  finished  work  it 
self." 

"  Man's  perception,  on  the  other  hand,"  she  continued 
after  a  moment's  pause,  "  is  never  wholly  free  of  bias, 
however,  he  may  pride  himself  to  the  contrary.  The  ego 
ivill  manifest  itself  consciously  or  unconsciously,  and 
however  much  repressed.  Man  is  too  inherently  self- 
conscious  to  ever  rid  himself  enough  of  the  thought  of 
self  to  get  a  true  perspective  on  life.  Therein,  lies  the 
root  of  all  earthly  evil.  When  the  first  of  the  human 
race,  in  those  far  days  before  history  began,  voiced  the 
realization  that  it,  the  race,  was  the  highest  pinnacle  to 

183 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

which,  in  point  of  perfection,  the  materially  organized 
on  earth  had  been  brought,  man  was  the  creature  ab 
solutely  of  the  natural  senses.  Of  the  higher — the  spiri 
tual  life, — he  had  no  inkling.  For  him  such  a  life 
had  no  existence.  So  far  had  his  powers  of  perception 
reached  and  no  further.  It  required  a  further  develop 
ment  before  it  could  hope  to  enter  into  a  comprehensible 
communion  with  God.  For,  understand,  every  phase 
of  development,  whether  general  or  individual,  carries 
with  it  its  limitations, — its  own  sphere  of  consciousness 
and  peculiar  range  of  thought;  and  the  suggestion  that 
came  to  him  that  he  was  the  centre — the  object  of  all 
the  lavish  care  we  find  displayed  on  every  hand, — the 
one  for  whom  all  this  splendor  of  earth  and  sky  was  cre 
ated,  but  marked  the  arc  of  flight  to  which  man's  fancy 
at  the  time  was  capable  of  soaring.  Viewed  from  the 
changed  and  changing  view-point  of  to-day  that  thought 
appears  the  soul  of  selfishness,  and  the  effect  of  its  cen 
turies-long  repeating  is  still  deep-seated  in  man.  It  has 
taken  a  thousand  wars  to  loosen  its  hold  upon  him.  Still, 
it  was  God's  way, — a  way  the  tortuousness  of  which  we 
do  not  understand. 

"  But  to-day  nobler  and  broader  aspirations  control  us. 
You  of  earth  are  gradually  coming  to  shed  the  callous 
ness  that  results  from  continued  self-centered  thought, 
— coming  more  and  more,  in  the  spirit  of  altruism,  to 
think, — more  and  more  to  act  for  your  fellowman.  And 
with  this  broadening  of  the  view  of  your  relationship 
with  the  greater  life  of  the  Universe  is  slowly  dawning, 
in  the  nature  of  a  conclusion,  the  truth  that,  while  the 
education,  the  growth,  and  the  elevation  of  the  soul  may 
be,  nay,  no  doubt  is,  the  object  of  this  earth-life,  it  is 
after  all  but  a  fragment — and  a  very  small  fragment,  of 
the  grand,  the  whole  truth. 

184 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  For  the  key  that  is  to  open  to  him  the  secret  of  ex 
istence  in  its  entirety  man  must  leave  earth  and  self  to 
soar  among  the  stars.  There  will  he  find  it  and  not  here. 
The  constant  viewing  and  reviewing  of  a  drop  of  water 
or  a  grain  of  sand  can  never  furnish  him  with  an  ad 
equate  idea  of  the  overpowering  magnitude  and  beauty 
of  mountain  or  sea.  Man  is  that  drop  of  ocean, — earth 
is  that  grain  of  sand,  in  the  measureless  scheme  of  the 
Universe.  The  will  must  teach  the  soul  to  fly.  Man,  in 
spirit  must  hie  to  the  cloudless  ether  of  some  height  of 
fancy  far  from  the  blinding  influences  of  his  petty  strifes, 
and  there,  in  the  serenity  of  the  primal  life,  give  free 
scope  to  every  heaven-born  faculty  within  him,  if  he  would 
obtain  some  idea  bordering  on  the  truth.  For  while  the 
way  to  Him  lies  within,  God  still  lives  without,  and  you 
must  learn  to  seek  for  him  afar  as  well  as  near  at  hand. 
Not  necessarily  in  some  star,  unless  it  be  the  pivotal  one 
about  which  the  inconceivably  great  mechanism  of 
the  Universe  may  be  conceived  to  revolve.  The  mighty 
darks  of  space  may  prove  quite  as  potent.  And  when  you 
have  found  Him,  as  never  question  you  will  if  you  but 
seek  aright,  the  riddle  of  the  ages  will  stand  revealed  to 
you.  For  you  will  have  found  the  sensorium  of  the 
world;  the  one  absolute  point  in  all  the  Universe;  the 
generating  point  of  all  energy ;  the  abiding  place  of  truth 
and  love ;  the  heaven,  in  short,  of  all  your  desires." 

"And  yet  with  all  your  wisdom,"  I  resumed  a  few  mo 
ments  later,  "you  can  not  say  just  when  I  am  to  die?" 

"  I  can  not,"  was  Rose's  simple  answer. 

"Why  not?     Can  you  tell  me  that ?" 

"  I  can.  Life  in  the  body,  you  know,  is  sustained  by  a 
nervous  energy  often  taken  for  the  life  itself,  which  in 
the  perfect  subject  reaches  into  every  atom  of  his  being. 

185 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Where  it  does  not,  ailment  is  the  consequence,  and  if  not 
quickly  overcome  and  the  machinery  set  to  rights  death 
in  its  first  approaches  has  been  heralded.  It  may  be  years 
to  the  culmination,  nevertheless  that  moment  where  the 
nervous  force  is  on  the  wane  marks  the  turning  point  of 
the  tide  and  the  approach  of  the  inevitable. 

"  The  problem  then  simply  resolves  itself  into  this. 
How  long  can  a  piece  of  mechanism  such  as  the  human 
frame,  a  portion  of  it  now  comprising  faulty  parts,  bear 
up  before  those  faulty  parts  transmit  their  difficulties  to 
every  other  part  and  the  whole  come  to  a  standstill.  It 
is  a  nice  calculation,  you  must  concede, — one  too  com 
plex  for  human  comprehension  as  at  present  developed, 
involving  fields  of  experience  not  known  to  you  or  us 
except  as  possible  of  existence.  But  it  so  happens  that 
this  very  point  is  a  subject  for  elucidation  in  a  sphere  a 
few  points  removed  from  ours  and  it  is  from  there  comes 
all  our  certain  knowledge  in  the  matter.  As  the  time 
approaches,  of  course,  and  the  indications  of  the  final  dis 
solution  come  more  within  the  range  of  its  special  knowl 
edge,  each  of  the  intervening  grades,  in  the  order  of  their 
perfection,  will  know  of  it,  just  as  you  in  your  broader 
experience  may  know  of  an  impending  event  long  before 
an  inexperienced  child  may.  When  the  light  enters  my 
own  sphere,  I  too  shall  know,  hours,  possibly  even  days, 
before  you  in  the  ordinary  run  of  things  could  know." 

"And  when  that  time  arrives  you  will  apprise  me  ?  " 

"  I  will." 


186 


CHAPTER  XX. 


ROSE  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  WORLD'S  AFFAIRS. 


FAITHFUL  to  the  promise  she  made  me  a  few  days 
ago  Rose  this  morning  approached  me  on  the  subject 
then  under  discussion,  saying: — 

"  Your  time  has  come." 

"  I  know  it,"  I  answered  briefly,  and  with  something  of 
the  air  of  a  martyr.  "  My  heart  has  protested  in  the 
exercise  of  its  functions  for  some  days  past." 

"It  may  cease  in  its  duty  at  any  moment,  my  dear, 
and  we  have  preparations  to  make." 

I   echoed   her   words. 

"  Preparations  ?  For  what,  Rose  ?  Tell  me  quickly, 
sweetheart,  for  a  panic  of  fear  is  overmastering  me." 

As  strangely  enough  was  the  fact.  For  in  a  moment, 
and  altogether  without  warning,  I  was  seized  with  an 
uncontrollable  trembling  akin  to  the  palsy,  attended  by  a 
perspiration  that  broke  from  every  pore  of  my  body  in 
cold  exudations. 

"  Nay,  why  should  it  ? "  She  laid  a  finger  gently 
upon  me.  "  Compose  yourself  to  think,  my  friend. 
Death  is  not  a  thing  to  be  shunned,  but  on  the  contrary 
a  thing  to  be  courted.  It  is  not  a  thing  of  horror,  but  a 

187 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

thing  of  beauty, — the  birth  into  a  new  life, — the  eternal 
life,  which  in  its  further  reaches  and  higher  states  holds 
for  you  and  me  and  all  mankind  an  era  wherein  we  are 
blessed  with  creative  energy, — the  peer  of  God  himself. 
The  earth-life  is  but  the  embryonic  period  of  the  soul  and 
nothing  more." 

She  was  sublime ;  and  I  ? — how  petty  we  are  at  times. 

"  But,  am  I  to  lie  here  and  rot?  "  I  asked  with  a  dis 
content  that  was  half-forced,  "  the  prey  of  marauding 
animals  ?  " 

She  looked  at  me  in  silence  for  a  moment,  pain,  sur 
prise,  and  a  great  pity  in  the  depths  of  her  eyes  as  she 
came  to  know  my  irresolution. 

"  I  said  that  we  must  prepare,"  she  returned  then  even 
more  gently  if  that  were  possible  than  before.  "  I  have 
read  your  thoughts  for  weeks  past — a  noble  fight  be 
tween  the  earthly  and  the  divine  in  you.  I  beg  to  assure 
you  you  will  not." 

"  But  how  ?  I  am  alone.  I  have  every  faith  in  you, 
dear  heart ; — but  how  ?  " 

Rose  smiled, — a  smile  so  sweet  and  compassionate, 
and  withal  so  reassuring,  that  gradually  I  came  to  lose 
my  fear  and  grew  composed. 

"  Listen,"  she  began.  "  On  the  edge  of  the  hills, 
where  the  last  brown  ridge  slopes  into  the  level  im 
mensity  of  the  plain,  with  his  mother  and  only  sister, 
lives  a  young  man  who  is  well-favored  in  many  ways. 
His  aims,  while  only  general  at  present,  are  above  the 
ordinary.  A  good  executive,  he  is  still  a  youth  more 
purely  intellectual,  with  desires  standing  for  betterment 
in  all  things." 

"  His  name  ?  "  I  asked,  curious  at  the  strange  turn  the 
conversation  was  taking. 

"Roger  Waring." 

188 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Somewhere  I  had  heard  the  name. 

"  Waring,"  I  repeated.  "  The  name  is  familiar ;  I 
have  come  upon  it  before.  But  where  ?  " 

"  In  the  Flats.  Do  you  not  remember,  my  dear,  one 
morning  some  years  back  a  young  man  assisting  you  in 
the  readjustment  of  your  pack?" 

"  I  do, — I  remember  the  incident  well.  But  why  this 
portentious  interest  in  him  ?  " 

"He   loves   Ida." 

"  I  had  not  even  heard  that  they  had  met,"  I  said  in 
surprise. 

''  They  have, — only  casually,  it  is  true,  but  none  the 
less  definitely.  They  met  in  the  City  where,  you  know, 
she  is  completing  her  studies.  There  was  only  a  glance 
of  eyes  meeting,  a  mingling  of  the  personalities  passing, 
but  his  heart  kindled  and  love  sprang  aflame,  and  to  that 
love  he  lives  true  to  this  moment." 

"And  Ida  ?    What  does  our  daughter  say  ?  " 

"  Poor  girl,"  Rose  smiled ;  "  she  suspects  nothing.  But 
in  her  secret  thoughts  I  am  joyed  to  find  his  image  rises 
with  a  fateful  persistency." 

"  Have  they  met  since  ?  This  is  news  to  me  and  in 
terests  most  keenly." 

"  They  have  not.  They  are  strangers  to  each  other 
and  do  not  know  how  to  bring  about  another  meeting. 
Blind  to  the  possible  he  indeed  lives  in  the  hope  that 
Providence  will  interfere,  with  the  result  that  they  meet 
again.  It  is  a  frail  thing  to  build  on ;  and  but  for  the 
proverbial  fact  that  the  young  heart  bounds  high  in 
hope  always,  he  must  have  given  up  in  despair  long 
ago." 

"And  you  propose  to  bring  about  this  meeting?"  I 
asked  after  a  moment's  pause. 

189 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  I  do." 

"But  how?" 

"  Listen  once  more.  This  young  man  has  a  friend 
in  the  City  of  whom  he  thinks  particularly  much.  They 
were  classmates  once." 

A  brief  pause  ensued. 

"  This  friend  of  our  friend  is — Paul  Carrington." 

"  Paul  Carrington?"  I  asked  in  utter  surprise;  " — my 
nephew  ? — my  brother's  boy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  And  Paul  in  his  rather  cold  way  reciprocates 
the  thought  so  showered  upon  him." 

"  Go  on, — go  on ;  I  am  still  mortal, — and  impatient." 

"  In  his  heart  of  hearts  Roger  is  seeking  to  perpetuate 
this  brotherly  regard  in  a  love-match  between  Paul  and 
his  only  sister,  Naomi." 

"Ah,  I  perceive." 

"  He  has  invited  Paul  to  the  ranch  with  much  per 
sistence.  But  Paul  is  a  much-occupied  man,  and  to  the 
present  time  has  been  unable  to  accede  to  his  wishes." 

There  was  another  pause, — of  bated  interest  to  me. 

"  Roger  loves  these  mountains  as  few  mortals  do.  It 
is  the  one  shrine  before  which  he  bows  his  knee  to  pour 
forth  all  the  ardor  of  his  young  soul  in  an  adoration 
of  the  Most  High.  And  when  extending  his  friendly 
invitations  to  Paul  an  excursion  into  them  was  always 
a  conspicuous  feature  in  the  entertainment  he  held  in 
prospect.  And,  of  even  more  vital  importance  to  our 
end's,  the  Basin  has  always  been  the  goal  of  goals  to 
him.  It  is  the  site  of  his  earliest  peregrinations  here, 
hence  its  subtle  attraction  for  him  apart  from  its  natural 
charm.  So  that,  once  his  wish  with  regard  to  Paul's 
visit  to  the  ranch  is  realized,  I  feel  that  they  will  hie 

190 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

them  thither  as  surely  as  turns  the  needle  to  the  pole." 

"  The  question  then  remains  only  how  to  bring  them 
to  this  little,  secret  nook  in  the  mountain,"  I  said,  anti 
cipating  the  thread  of  her  story. 

"  Yes ;  and  having  read  your  thoughts  in  this  matter 
for  some  time  past  I  have  laid  out  a  plan  of  action." 

"  How  good  of  you.     And  your  plan?" 

"  Has  at  least  the  merit  of  simplicity.  I  have  but, 
through  the  utilization  of  that  universal  language, 
suggestion,  to  impress  upon  Paul  the  expediency  of  ac 
cepting  at  this  time  Waring's  invitation,  and  all  is  done." 

"  So  easily  ?  "  I  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  have 
to  explain  to  me  more  fully." 

"  Circumstances,  it  so  happens,  are  most  favorable  to 
my  plan.  With  Paul  once  upon  the  ranch  I  fear  noth 
ing.  Naomi  is  beautiful, — good  as  beautiful,  and  with 
just  enough  of  intellect  to  make  her  charming.  She  is 
just  the  woman  Paul  most  admires.  So  with  this  re 
taining  force  in  play  at  the  ranch  Roger  will  experience 
no  trouble  in  persuading  him  to  the  trip  into  the  moun 
tains, — if,  indeed,  he  finds  persuasion  necessary  at  all; 
which  I  very  much  doubt  as  Paul  has  had  visions  of  rest 
in  green  fields  and  shady  woods  for  some  time.  He 
has  been  very  diligent  in  his  work  of  late, — too  diligent 
in  fact.  And  then  Waring  has  a  most  admirable  coad 
jutor  in  the  person  of  his  friend  Sutcliff.  Once  in  the 
Basin  I  have  but  to  suggest  the  climb  of  the  moun 
tain—." 

"  Which  I  fear  will  be  no  easy  task,"  I  interrupted. 

"  Fear  nothing.  Another  suggestion  and  it  is  done. 
To  ensure  our  success,  however,  we  will  have  to  appeal 
strongly  upon  the  sensational.  Anything  short  may 
pass  unnoticed.  The  unusual,  you  know,  holds  piquancy 

191 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

and  charm  for  the  human  mind  always.  Now,  upon 
the  mountain-top  facing  the  Basin  stands  a  monster  pine, 
now  dead  for  many  years.  It  is  part  of  my  plan  that 
on  the  morning  of  their  arrival  in  the  Basin  you  fire  this 
tree." 

"  I  follow  you  readily.  My  mind  is  unusually  clear 
this  morning." 

"  I  will  apprise  you  of  their  coming.  They  will 
noon  on  the  flats  of  the  Deerhorn, — the  Ferrals  are  even 
now  projecting  the  pitching  of  their  camp  there." 

"  The  Ferrals  ?  "  I  repeated  in  surprise.  "  What  can 
they  possibly  have  to  do  with  us  ?  " 

Rose   smiled. 

"  You  will  begin  to  see  shortly  that  intelligence  rules 
this  world, — that  nothing  is  really  the  outcome  of 
chance.  We  follow  Law  in  every  action  of  our  lives, 
be  it  what  we  call  voluntary  or  otherwise.  They  will 
prove  the  retaining  force  at  the  meadows,  from  whence 
only  is  had  that  imposing  view  of  the  Butte.  Otherwise 
Waring's  friend  in  his  eagerness  will  pass  on  through 
to  the  Cherry-Creek  Meadows." 

"  I  see." 

"At  the  Meadows  there  will  be  a  short  strife  of 
opinion.  When  our  signal  first  rises  to  heaven,  every 
member  will  give  expression  to  an  interpretation  of  its 
purpose;  but  it  will  remain  for  Waring — the  most  sus 
ceptible  to  my  influence, — to  carry  the  day." 

"And  man  prides  himself  on  being  a  free  agent,"  I 
ejaculated,  breathless  at  this  new  version  of  life. 

"  Man  is  one  with  God, — the  head.  He  directs  in  all 
things." 

"  But,"  said  I,  aghast,  "  do  you  not  realize  that  in 
thus  depriving  man  of  the  belief  that  he  is  a  free  agent, 

192 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

responsible  for  his  every  action  to  God  and  man,  you 
are  depriving  him  of  that  responsibility  ?  " 

"I  do ;  and  more.  It  is  a  responsibility  that  lies 
lightly.  And  can  I  help  what  is?  But  after  all  it  is 
immaterial.  The  man  or  woman  doing  right  follows 
an  inborn  principle,  or  at  least  a  very  pronounced  be 
lief,  and  an  expression  of  belief,  if  wrong,  will  in 
no  wise  influence  either.  God  has  guarded  every 
byway,  you  see.  On  the  other  hand  unsupported 
theory,  even  if  it  prove  right,  never  made  a  true 
Christian.  Before  good  can  come  God  must  stand 
within.  A  man  may  join  the  church,  but  unless  the  vital 
point,  the  fundamental  principle  of  his  character  has 
evolved  from  the  purely  physical  and  intellectual — 
which  are  but  a  step  from  the  animal, — to  that  higher 
plane,  the  spiritual,  which  is  the  true  human  plane,  he 
is  as  far  from  the  Absolute  as  he  was  while  he  stood 
without.  That  change  must  come ;  it  is  natural,  and 
there  will  be  no  mistaking  it  when  it  does, — that  inner 
realization  that  there  breathes  a  world  beyond.  So  you 
see  any  opinion  I  may  entertain — or  you, — upon  the  sub 
ject  has  really  no  vital  bearing. 

"  But,  for  the  sake  of  the  discussion,  I  believe  that 
upon  this  subject  man  is  in  general  mistaken.  What 
does  he  really  know  of  the  nature  of  evil? — its  constitu 
tion,  or  the  purpose  of  its  existence?  I  hold  that  God 
never  errs, — can  not  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  be 
ing  the  All-in-all.  Even  abortions,  dropping  for  the 
moment  to  the  material,  or  what  pass  as  such,  wherever 
found,  must  have  their  purpose.  Evil  is  not  a  chance 
or  irresponsible  product,  but  exists  as  much  for  a  fixed 
end,  and  that  end  the  higher  exaltation  of  good,  as  the 
very  principle  of  good  itself. 

193 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

"  But  unlike  the  principle  of  good,  which  is  fixed 
and  absolute  in  God,  that  of  evil  is  not.  As  we  near  the 
good  we  are  conscious  of  an  approach,  we  can  feel  the 
distance  lessening,  the  chasm  between  filling  in  as  it 
were;  but  when  we  look  back,  even  from  our  highest 
point  of  rectitude,  we  find  that  evil  has  kept  apace, 
that  we  are  still  immersed  in  an  atmosphere  of  it,  an  at 
mosphere  we  now  begin  to  realize  we  can  never  hope  to 
fully  escape  from.  It  extends,  comparative  always,  re 
member,  beyond  the  earth  state ;  it  prevails  amongst  us 
in  the  border-land;  it  pervades  the  sections  higher  up. 
It  is,  in  short,  a  necessary  concomitant  quality  to  the 
scheme  of  our  moral  growth. 

"  Then  so  many  content  themselves  with  applying  the 
lotion  to  the  scrofula,  forgetting  that  the  seat  of  disease 
lies  far  down  in  the  impurities  of  the  blood.  Sin  is  an 
effect  whose  cause  lies  not  in  nature  without  but  in 
man's  nature  within ; — is  an  emanation  of  self  in  other 
words,  we  each  inhaling  and — what  is  far  worse. — ex 
haling  an  atmosphere  of  it  peculiar  to  ourselves.  For 
evil  is  a  moral  obliquity  due  to  a  dwarfed  and  undevel 
oped  soul. 

"And.  you  know,  it  is  the  root  of  disease  that  the 
surgeon  worthy  the  name  seeks  at  all  times  to  remove. 
What  is  the  root  in  this  case  ?  It  is  plainly  evident :  sel 
fishness,  hatred,  suspicion,  falsehood,  dishonesty,  envy, 
— everything  demeaning  and  worthy  our  profoundest 
contempt ;  an  array  of  negatives  it  should  pain  a  think 
ing  man  to  survey;  a  host  of  parasites  that  enslave  the 
soul  and  vitiate  its  life. 

"  Now,  let  us  for  a  moment  imagine  them  supplanted 
by  their  opposites,  the  qualities  upon  which  the  soul  may 
feed,  and  grow  and  wax  to  that  perfection  which  is  akin 

194 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

to  God.  Those  opposites  are,  benevolence,  love,  faith, 
truth,  honesty,  loyalty,  charity, — certainly  a  shining  host. 
And  mark  the  result.  Sin  vanishes  as  darkness  does 
before  the  dawn. 

"  The  road  of  escape  is  plain  enough.  It  is  up  to  man, 
through  the  medium  of  his  duty  to  God  and  man,  to  get 
out  upon  it.  In  so  far  are  we  at  least  free  agents.  That 
path  lies  not  in  a  change  of  physical  environment,  nor  in 
a  social  readjustment,  but  in  a  moral  regeneration.  We 
must  cultivate  in  ourselves  and  our  children  these  all- 
powerful  positives.  No  permanent  banishment  of  evil 
can  result  in  any  other  way.  Legal  or  social  prohibition 
only  serve  to  dam  the  tide  that  later  floods  the  land  in 
a  moral  reaction.  Not  but  that  regulation  may  be  ne 
cessary:  the  mistake  is  in  considering  it  all-sufficient. 


195 


CHAPTER  XXL 


THE   LAST   DAY. 


MY  last  day.  I  note  that  I  write  the  words  with  my 
usual  tranquility  of  mind.  There  is  no  transfiguration; 
only  an  elation  a  little  more  acute  than  any  I  have  ever 
felt.  Is  it  that  I  do  not  realize  what  the  expression 
means  to  me? — that  I  must  write  the  words  again  and 
again  before  I  can  hope  to  realize  it?  The  thought  of  it 
all  seems  so  unreal,  so  like  some  fantastic  dream,  that 
I  can  never  seem  to  quite  grasp  it.  And  then  again  it  is 
all  so  ingrained  in  the  web  of  my  being,  is  so  real,  that  it 
seems  to  have  been  part  of  my  life  since  time  first  began. 

My  last  day.  The  feeling  is  not  one  of  resignation 
with  which  I  view  the  future.  It  is  not  resignation  we 
feel  at  the  close  of  one  bright  day,  and  with  the  certainty 
before  us  that  the  morrow  will  bring  another  even  more 
fair.  It  is  hope.  The  culprit  about  to  meet  his  doom 
may  feel  resignation  as  his  hour  draws  near;  it  is  all  he 
is  capable  of,  moral  paralytic  that  he  is.  I  question  even 
whether  the  simple  faith  of  the  martyrs  brought  to  them 
more  that  resignation  in  that  last  hour  at  the  stake  or 
within  the  sanded  oval  of  the  arena.  Faith,  if  only  blind 

196 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

faith  and  not  a  wisdom  that  is  half  intuitive,  must  fail 
it  seems  to  me  at  the  last  moment.  Knowledge  alone 
can  have  the  power  to  bring  more. 

My  last  day.  I  know  we  all  have  one,  some  early  in 
life,  computing  in  our  puny,  artificial  way  from  com 
parative  standards,  some  late.  But  was  there  ever  man 
situated  as  I  am  ?  with  the  fact  of  his  end  known  to  him, 
and  the  hour  of  that  end  approaching, — approaching, — 
approaching? — slowly,  it  is  true,  but  with  an  inevitable- 
ness  under  no  circumstances  to  be  evaded?  To  most — 
to  most,  I  say? — to  all  that  last  day  comes  unheralded, — 
comes  when  least  expected.  It  may  be  to-day, — it  may 
be  one  or  a  score  of  years  hence.  We  never  know.  And 
well  it  is  that  we  do  not. 

And  yet  God's  wisdom  in  this  has  been  questioned, — 
as  his  wisdom  is  being  questioned  at  every  turn  of  our 
lives.  How  much  easier,  they  say,  would  it  be  to  do  our 
duty  with  the  certainty  of  a  reward  in  an  after-life.  Why 
this  darkness? — why  this  blindness?  True.  But  how 
for  the  soul?  What  do  we  know  of  the  future? — what 
it  may  hold  for  the  need  of  the  strength  to  repress,  the 
strength  to  control,  the  strength  to  persevere? 

And  with  all  our  philosophy  it  is  but  a  half-truth 
after  all.  For  God  does  not  hide.  "  Seek  and  ye  shall 
find,"  it  is  said.  To  the  pure  and  spiritually  clean — 
the  only  cleanliness  that  is  next  to  godliness, — there 
comes  a  condition  possible  to  them  alone.  It  is  the 
divine  light  breaking  through  the  clear  crystal,  to  illumine 
and  beautify  with  its  iridescence.  It  brings  with  it  a 
broader  relationship  with  the  powers  that  be.  They  see 
further, — they  see  deeper;  they  hear  the  whispers  of 
things  dead  before;  they  feel  a  presence  of  whose  ex 
istence  they  once  stood  in  doubt;  they  taste  of  joys  of 

197 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

which,  before  they  reached  this  plane  of  development, 
they  knew  not  of. 

Ah,  the  beauty  of  this  life, — ah,  the  error  of  our  ways ! 
With  the  waters  of  life  on  every  hand  we  yet  perish 
of  thirst.  Awake,  oh  man !  Awake  to  what  is  possible 
to  you  on  earth  ! 


Last  night  was  sublime.  I  walked  in  an  atmosphere 
that  was  half  divine.  There  was  a  storm; — the  rain 
poured, — the  lightning  flashed  above  as  never  before. 
And  when  the  storm  was  over  and  above  the  tumbled 
clouds  marshalled  over  the  dark  Minarets  the  moon 
shone  across  the  void  beyond  the  shelving  rock  upon 
which  I  stood,  my  soul  rose  in  a  very  uplift  of  thanks 
giving  to  God  for  the  blessedness  of  life.  There  was  a 
calm — the  calm  of  a  mysterious  life  it  was  to  me, — 
about  the  woods,  silent  in  the  light, — silent  in  the  darks 
of  passing  clouds,  such  as  I  have  never  felt  before.  The 
secret  of  the  Future  is  about  to  be  bared  to  me.  I 
seemed  strangely  full  of  life.  I  drowsed  not.  Not  be 
cause  of  a  dread  of  what  the  future  may  hold:  that  is 
a  settled  question.  I  was  surcharged  with  the  element 
of  life.  The  pulses  of  earth  are  dying  within,  baring 
the  field  to  the  higher  and  finer  instincts  that  come  from 
above.  It  was  long  after  the  middle  of  the  night  before 
I  slept. 


And  this  morning!  What  mortal  dares  attempt  to 
describe  it?  It  broke  bright  and  clear,  and  without  a 
cloud.  As  the  dawn  advanced,  however,  little  wisps  of 

198 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

fog  appeared  in  the  canyons  for  a  time,  half-enshroud 
ing  the  dusky  pinegrown  bases  of  the  mountains.  And 
then  came  the  glorious  sun,  to  play  upon  the  fresh, 
fragrant  forests  in  a  million  scintillating  points,  and  in 
all  the  colors  of  the  spectrum.  It  was  like  a  page  from 
fairy-land. 

With  the  sun  appeared  my  feathered  friends  to  fill 
the  warm  air  about  my  door  with  their  melody.  What 
songs  are  theirs !  Joy  and  hope, — hope  and  joy,  always 
and  forever.  Man  alone  mourns.  And  my  four-footed 
visitants, — dainty  and  span,  afraid  of  the  rumple  and  dis 
order  in  the  damp  of  the  earlier  morn.  Lightly  balanced 
on  the  rim  of  my  sugar-bowl,  attended  by  a  stranger  as 
yet  shy  and  a  little  fearful,  little  Chip  views  me  askance 
as  he  nibbles  at  the  sweet  of  its  contents  questioning  the 
why  of  my  unusual  quiet.  Good-bye,  little  one.  Your 
companionship  has  helped  while  away  many  an  hour  that 
might  otherwise  have  proved  most  dreary  to  me.  To 
morrow  we  part.  Will  it  be  for  ever?  Nay, — nay;  but 
for  a  time.  Never  fear.  Somewhere,  somehow,  some 
time,  and  in  some  shape,  in  the  vast  seeming  void  of  the 
Universe,  we  shall  meet  again.  The  orbits  of  our  lives 
have  simply  run  side  by  side  so  far, — have  crossed,  and 
are  about  to  part.  Somewhere  and  sometime  in  the 
future,  just  as  the  planets  repeat  theirs,  yet  never  wholly 
the  same,  will  ours  recross.  Shall  we  know  each  other 
then?  Yes,  surely.  Does  God  know?  Then  shall  we 
also,  for  we  are  one  with  him. 


Outside  all  is  charm  this  morning.     Overtopping  the 
cupping  shakes  of  the  cabin  the  buttonwood  spreads  its 

199 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Motw. 

long  boughs  in  a  shower  of  white  bloom  against  the  dusk 
of  the  forest  wall.  From  the  creek  comes  the  fragrance 
of  the  bed  of  wood-violets  that  reposes  there  in  such  shy 
modesty,  and  which  has  more  than  once  added  strength 
to  the  conviction  I  entertain  of  the  exalted  purposes  of 
this  life.  In  the  sunlit,  needle-strewn  open  near  the  lake 
a  scattering  of  lilies  nod  in  the  wind.  To  all  I  went  visit 
ing,  to  each  bade  a  tender  farewell,  my  heart  thankful, 
my  soul  appreciating  a  purpose  in  their  existence  in  the 
greater  fullness  their  life  on  earth  has  brought  my  own. 


Yesterday  already  I  removed  the  brush  from  the  trail 
— for  I  had  a  moment  of  doubt  seize  me,  not  of  the  out- 
come  of  the  prophecy,  but  as  to  the  hour  of  its  consum 
mation.  My  dumb  companion  was  loth  to  leave,  and  in 
the  end  I  had  to  drive  him  before  me  over  the  zig-zag  of 
sunlit  trail  well  into  the  Basin,  where,  I  feel  he  will 
fall  in  with  some  packtrain  on  its  way  to  or  from 
the  summits.  My  heart  was  deeply  stirred,  I  confess, 
and  my  eyes  moistened  as  I  bade  my  faithful  friend  of 
years  adieu ;  he  following  me  with  his  eyes  in  a  stupid, 
slow-comprehending  way,  and  voicing  his  remonstrance 
of  my  desertion  of  him  till  I  dropped  to  this  side  of  the 
mountain,  and  eye  and  ear  knew  him  no  more. 


I  feel  myself  growing  weaker.  My  heart  fails  in  its 
full  duty  at  times, — almost  coming  to  a  complete  stop 
now  and  then, — at  others  beating  with  a  tumultuousness 
that  I  know  is  not  provocative  of  either  peace  of  mind 
or  welfare  of  body.  Otherwise  the  functions  of  both  are 

200 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

normal.  I  read  for  an  hour  this  morning-;  following  it 
with  the  inscribing  of  a  note  to  the  party  for  whose  com 
ing  I  am  now  waiting, — writing  with  an  indifference  at 
first  until  it  came  to  me  what  wonder  theirs  would  be 
when  they  came  to  read,  and  smiling  at  the  thought  that 
they  might  even  come  to  think  me  light  of  head.  Then  I 
played  upon  my  flute, — with  more  than  my  usual  power  it 
must  be,  for,  beautiful  as  the  morning  is,  with  every  in 
ducement  to  song  in  light  and  air,  the  birds  seemed  to 
cease  in  theirs  in  order  to  listen  to  mine.  I  am  resting 
quietly  now, — reserving  all  my  energies  for  the  climb  to 
the  mountain's  top  and  the  great  pine  upon  its  brow.  I 
greatly  fear  that  at  the  last  moment  my  strength  will  for 
sake  me,  and  that  I  may  sink  exhausted  by  the  way.  But 
Rose  says  nay,  and  lays  a  hand  upon  me,  when,  lo! — a 
new  life  surges  through  me  and  urges  me  onward. 


Last  night  in  the  calm  succeeding  the  tumult  of  the 
early  evening  I  sought  and  found  communication  with 
the  clearing.  It  is  strange  that  at  times  I  am  taken  with 
that  groundless  fear  that  all  our  calculations  may  yet  go 
awry ;  but  so  used  is  human  nature  to  consider  chance  as 
a  factor  in  a  scheme  that  knows  only  Law.  Such  a  mo 
ment  was  it  that  prompted  me  then, — such  a  moment  wa^ 
it  that  prompted  me  earlier  in  the  day.  My  faith  is  not 
yet  fully  established, — or  say  rather  the  weak  points  of 
my  early  training  have  not  been  fully  strengthened  and 
restored.  From  my  friend  I  have  at  no  time  witheld 
anything  of  importance,  and  my  plea  now  was,  that 
should  the  ends  for  which  both  Rose  and  myself  have 
worked  so  faithfully  miscarry, — and  not  before, — that  he 
use  every  endeavor  in  his  power  to  deliver  to  Ida,  my 

20 1 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

daughter,  the  mine  of  the  Mono, —  an  appeal,  I  was  as 
sured,  that  was  not  to  be  made  in  vain. 


I  have  now  but  to  await  the  hour.  I  have  done  all, — 
fulfilled  Rose's  every  wish.  My  grave — cool,  moist,  rest 
ful,  even  inviting, — stands  ready  to  receive  me.  And  I 
have  fired  the  tree.  The  climb  to  the  point  on  the  brow 
where  it  stands  alone,  the  hoary,  unassuming  hero  of  a 
thousand  storms,  I  made  with  little  effort  enough, — 
much  less  than  I  had  thought  for, — sustained  as  I  was 
by  Rose's  presence.  But  now,  returned,  and  left  to  my 
own  unaided  and  enfeebled  resources,  reaction  has  come ; 
my  strength  is  quickly  forsaking  me,  leaving  me  very 
weak  indeed.  Yet  what  matters  it,  heart,  where  a  few 
more  hours  will  end  this  earthly  life. 

Imagine  my  thoughts, — imagine  the  emotions  that 
surged  through  me  as  I  stood  beneath  the  gnarled  mon 
arch  and  watched  the  dense,  resinous  smoke  roll  above 
me  in  a  large  white  cloud  against  the  blue  of  the  sky ;  the 
woodland  scape  a  thousand  feet  below  reposing  dark  in 
the  calm  of  the  June  morning.  It  was  my  last  day  on 
earth ;  it  was  to  be  my  last  view  of  that  wondrous  scene, 
tranquil  with  that  great  tranquility  that  has  ever  held  me 
in  its  thrall  and  named  me  willing  kin  in  that  greater 
kinship  that  includes  all  nature.  There  was  but  one  curl 
of  smoke  visible  above  the  points  of  the  pines  in  that  ex 
panse  of  forest  and  mountain, — blue,  small,  insignificant, 
and  speaking  of  human  effort  in  its  weakness  to  accom 
plish.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  it, — it  was  on  the 
verge  of  the  open  that  marks  the  meadows  of  the  Deer- 
horn.  With  the  glass  I  had  taken  with  me  to  descry  if 

202 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

possible  one  last  vestige  of  human  life  before  departing 
from  earth  and  its  ties  forever,  I  made  out  the  forms  of 
my  friends, — dark  mites  upon  the  green.  For  friends 
they  are,  though  strangers  to  me, — not  excepting  Paul, 
though  the  same  blood  courses  through  both  our  veins. 
I  even  thought  I  could  note  a  certain  excitement  show 
up  among  them, — like  that  occasioned  in  the  colony  by 
an  untoward  footfall  upon  an  ant-heap, — created  no  doubt 
by  the  appearance  of  my  mysterious  signal.  If  so,  it 
was  shortlived,  for  shortly  they  disappeared  beneath  the 
trees,  and  I  saw  but  the  moving  forms  of  their  grazing 
animals.  As  a  human  entity  I  have  seen  the  last  of  my 
kind.  For  to-morrow  I  am  more  than  human. 

And  so  here  I  am  face  to  face  with  the  inevitable.  Yet 
am  I  tranquil, — more  so  than  I  ever  pictured  to  myself 
was  possible.  It  is  night,  and  I  write  in  the  quiet  of  my 
cabin.  The  moon  shines  in  at  the  door,  and  down  the 
chimney,  flecking  the  ash-covered  west  wall  with  the 
patches  of  its  light;  and  the  flickering  of  the  burning 
logs  upon  the  hearth  brings  into  fantastic  play  every 
lurking  shadow  of  the  place.  A  cricket  chirps  shrilly 
and  insistently  beneath  the  bunk,  and  outside  I  hear  the 
occasional  lament  of  a  bird  disturbed  in  its  nest.  What 
a  life  is  this !  What  an  absorbing,  eluding  mystery ! 
What  a  blending  of  the  real  with  the  unreal !  With 
our  feeble  ray  of  understanding  we  seek  to  pierce  the 
unknown :  we  strike  upon  a  glimmer  of  the  Truth,  only 
to  have  it  engulfed  the  next  moment  in  the  shades  of 
an  ever-enlarging  mystery. 


I  must  have  dozed.     It  is  long  past  midnight,  for  the 
play  of  the  moonbeams  has  shifted  to  the  opposite  wall 

203 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

of  the  chimney,  and  through  the  cracks  of  the  window, 
falls  in  bars  of  silver  upon  the  table,  where  my  candle 
burns  mistily.  My  cricket  friend  has  ceased  his  song; 
the  bird  without  settled  to  a  peaceful  slumber.  Not  a 
sound  is  there  to  disturb  the  hallowed  quiet.  Yes,  hark, 
there  is  one  other.  Like  the  faint  breath  of  the  wind 
it  comes  to  my  ear, — the  rustle  as  of  silken  garments, 
and  through  the  earth-gloom  appears  Rose, — her  face 
radiant  with  the  light  of  a  wish  fulfilled,  her  hair  an 
aureole,  her  blue  eyes  lakes  of  a  depth  that  is  wonder 
ful.  Friends  of  every  age,  male  and  female,  attend  her, 
and  stand  vaguely  about,  pleasure — nay,  a  welcome, 
simple  and  direct,  upon  every  countenance.  The 
scene  grows  clearer, — blends  into  the  well-known  one  of 
Rose's  abode  with  its  idyllic  groves  and  beautiful  flowers, 
its  silver-throated  birds,  its  play  of  crystal  fountains, 
its  happy  children — their  laughter  for  the  moment  stilled, 
— its  waiting  couch.  Rose  beckons  me, — but  a  strange 
moment  of  hesitation  seizes  me.  She  bids  me  laughingly 
desist  in  my  writing, — and  still  I  hesitate.  She 
approaches  with  a  smile,  and  with  arms  extended.  Those 
arms, — a  sudden  weakness  is  upon  me — I  must  lay  me 
down  for  a — moment ;  Rose  ! — Almighty  God  !  I  co — . 


Waring  closed  the  book  and  for  many  moments  not  a 
word  was  spoken  between  us,  so  affected  were  we. 

"  His  life  was  one  long  prayer,"  was  his  gentle  com 
ment  then.  "  We  can  easily  imagine  the  rest, — the  single 
step  to  the  cot — the  half-unconscious  drawing  of  the 
coverlet, — the  half-return  to  consciousness, — the  spirit's 
embrace, — the  final  dissolution,  when  the  extended  arms 


204 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

fell  powerless  upon  his  bosom,  there  to  lay  till  we  found 
him.  A  modern  miracle." 

Sutcliff  thrust  a  twig  into  the  coals  in  silence,  a  mo 
ment  later  lighting  his  pipe  with  the  flaming  end. 

"A  modern  miracle  indeed." 


205 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


SURPRISE. 


How  long  I  slept  I  do  not  know,  but  I  remember 
awakening  with  a  start  and  the  sense  strong  upon  me 
that  something  stupendous  had,  or  was  about  to  happen. 
I  sat  up  in  my  blankets  with  every  faculty  keenly  alive. 

Outside  our  fire  had  not  been  allowed  to  die  down. 
Before  retiring  for  the  night  we  had  heaped  great 
quantities  of  fuel  upon  the  coals,  and  this  was  now 
burning  brightly  and  cheerily.  By  its  flickering  light  as, 
subdued,  it  penetrated  the  white  canvas  slopes  of  our 
tent,  I  saw  SutclifFs  bed  had  been  vacated,  and  that 
Waring  was  slumbering  easily  in  his.  I  heard  footsteps 
without  that  I  recognized  as  SutclifFs.  I  heard  also  the 
uneasy  trampling  of  our  horses,  and  the  steady  roar  of 
many  waters. 

Suddenly  I  started  to  my  feet.  For  the  mountain  had 
trembled  as  if  shaken  by  a  mighty  hand,  and  a  distant 
roar  was  swelling  and  fading  away  over  all  other  sounds. 
I  rushed  from  the  tent. 

I  found  Sutcliff  by  the  fire  standing  expectant.  Above 
us  the  trampling  of  the  horses  grew  chaotic.  I  heard 

206 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

also  from  yet  further  up  the  slope  a  boulder  set  free  by 
the  unusual  vibration  come  clattering  down  the  moun 
tain,  loosening  a  miniature  avalanche  of  stones  in  its 
descent,  and  continuing  its  career  down  an  adjacent 
ravine. 

A  change  at  once  decided  and  agreeable  had  taken 
place  in  the  weather.  It  was  one  of  those  sudden  changes 
for  which  there  is  no  apparent  cause.  It  had  grown 
noticeably  milder  since  the  hour  of  our  retiring,  a  warm 
air  breathing  over  the  mountain  that  was  very  pleasant 
to  our  sense  of  comfort.  The  clouds  above  were  break 
ing  asunder,  and  a  moon  in  its  last  quarter  stood  high 
in  the  east. 

"An  earthquake  ?  "  I  questioned  of  my  companion. 

But  Sutcliff  only  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  returned  after  a  while ;  "  It  is 
an  experience  entirely  new  to  me." 

For  an  hour  we  hung  over  the  fire,  kicking  in  the  butts 
and  heaping  fresh  logs  upon  it  as  bit  by  bit  it  died  down 
and  needed  replenishing.  Twice  there  came  a  renewal 
of  the  trembling,  but  it  was  in  a  much  more  subdued 
form,  and  accompanied  by  no  sound. 

Then,  assured  by  the  silence,  we  re-entered  the  tent 
and  crawled  beneath  our  blankets  to  try  for  an  hour 
more  of  fitful  sleep.  I  do  not  know  what  success  waited 
upon  Sutcliff.  I  only  know  that  the  first  streak  of  that 
early  dawn  had  appeared  in  the  east  before  I  succeeded 

in  snatching  a  period  of  needed  repose. 
********* 

That  next  morning,  so  both  Waring  and  Sutcliff  af 
firmed,  was  one  of  the  most  perfect  they  had  met  with  in 
all  their  extensive  experience  in  the  mountains.  The 
clouds  had  entirely  disappeared,  disclosing  an  expanse  of 

207 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

blue  above  the  sharp,  dark  points  of  the  pines,  smiling, 
and  of  a  translucency  and  depth  that  were  inspiring.  In 
the  crystal  clear  atmosphere  every  detail  of  the  landscape 
stood  out  with  cameo-like  distinctness ; — the  fringe  of 
ice-corroded  granite  above  the  steep,  brush-bound  de 
clivity  to  the  south,  irradiating  with  the  light  of  the  ris 
ing  sun;  the  dark  bowl  of  the  Basin  back  of,  and  below 
us,  resting  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountain ;  and  nearer  at 
hand  all  the  many  and  varied  objects  of  our  more  im 
mediate  surroundings. 

A  white  frost  lay  upon  the  meadow,  where  upon  its 
verge  our  horses  stood  shivering  in  the  gray  of  the  morn 
ing.  Nevertheless  there  was  a  warmth  in  the  air  that 
made  the  blood  course  quick  in  hope,  and  made  plain  to 
man  and  beast  that  the  dilatory  summer  had  at  last  ar 
rived  and  was  securing  a  foothold  in  the  land.  Perhaps 
the  change  of  mood  was  mine,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
over  night  the  waters  had  changed  the  burden  of  their 
song; — that  instead  of  suggestions  of  discomfort,  which 
had  been  theirs  the  day  before,  they  had  now  inter 
twined  in  their  music  certain  repetent  notes, — a  subtle 
dominant  as  it  were  that  brought  visions  of  breaking 
buds  on  the  oaks  and  laurel  about  us ;  of  the  fuller 
fragrance  of  bush  and  flower,  and  the  lush  of  the  green 
meadows  of  the  middle-reaches ;  and  lastly,  in  the  heat 
mists  of  the  farthest  distance,  of  yellow  fields  bending 
before  the  wind,  and  fruits  hanging  in  purpling  clusters 
in  the  long  converging  lines  of  the  valley  vineyards.  And 
yet,  again,  I  feel  that  the  change  was  not  wholly  mine. 
In  a  way  that  was  equine  it  is  true,  but  none  the  less 
conclusive,  our  animals,  too,  seemed  to  have  caught  the 
infection.  For  as  the  sun  broke  through  in  long 
bars  of  light,  and  the  air  grew  more  and  more 

208 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

springlike,  there  came  an  ever-increasing  disturb 
ance  from  among  them ;  a  challenging  neigh  for  instance, 
followed  by  an  acrimonious  uplifting  of  hoofs  in  play 
or  reprisal ; — a  condition  of  things  in  fact  to  which  Sut- 
cliff  found  it  necessary  to  call  a  halt  by  putting  in  an 
appearance  among  them,  disentangling  where  he  could 
the  wet,  wirelike  ropes,  and  giving  a  pat  of  cheer  here 
and  a  word  of  gentle  admonition  there. 

And  when  after  breakfast  we  took  up  our  rifles  and 
passed  over  the  saddle  to  drop  into  the  open  of  the  slide 
beyond,  where  the  skunk  cabbage  stood  luxuriously 
green,  and  the  laurel  bloomed  in  patches  of  rose  and 
white,  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  bask  in  the  warmth  and 
radiance  which  there  beat  upon  the  slope.  It  is  well  for 
us,  a  nation  of  "  dollar-dazzled  success-worshippers,"  as 
a  recent  writer  very  aptly  put  it,  that  the  "call  of  the 
wild"  is  so  deeply  rooted  within  us.  God  indeed  works 
his  ends  in  many  mysterious  ways.  But  for  this  "call," 
and  a  periodical  return  to  first  principles,  we  would  in 
the  course  of  time,  Heaven  knows,  become  but  so  much 
machinery, — sentiment-proof  automatons,  and  nothing 
more.  To  me  it  was  worth  a  fortune  that  morning  to  be 
able  to  enjoy  myself  as  I  did ;  and  that  not  only,  but  to 
see  the  others — and  more  particularly  the  hearty  manner 
of  Sutcliff, — enjoy  the  varied  beauty  of  mountain  and 
canyon  ; — the  lavish  wealth  of  color ;  the  hush  of  the  im 
mense  silence ;  the — this  last  tacitly  and  half-unconscious- 
ly, — recognition  of  the  spirit  of  God  permeating  un 
seen  and  yet  so  very  palpably  every  object  about  us. 

Arrived  below  we  were  unable  to  locate  the  exact  spot 
where  the  trail  to  the  deserted  cabin  of  our  one-time  her 
mit  friend  branched  from  the  main  one  to  the  Chiquita. 
But  having  reached  as  we  thought  the  level  of  the  glade, 

209 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

— which  was  a  little  below  the  general  wall  of  rock  which 
here  supported  the  summit, — we  plunged  boldly  north 
ward  into  the  entanglements  of  brush  and  talus,  taking 
the  general  direction  only  for  a  guide.  We  had  gone  no 
considerable  distance  when  Sutcliff s  eagle  eye  found 
signs  of  where  the  brush  had  been  cut  and  thrown  aside 
upon  our  left.  Working  toward  it  we  in  a  few  minutes 
found  ourselves  upon  a  dim,  sinuous  path,  marked  at  its 
acute  turnings  by  little  mounds  of  stones. 

Upon  this  we  trudged  hopefully  on  for  an  hour,  hop 
ing  at  every  turn  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  our 
goal,  and  incidentally  with  our  fortunes.  We  came  upon 
the  spot  on  the  trail  where  the  brush  barrier  had  been 
placed  that  was  to  prevent,  in  the  years  that  were,  the 
straying  of  the  hermit's  little  beast  of  burden,  and  which 
he  had  on  that  day  so  considerately  removed  to 
allow  of  the  animal's  egress  and  later  wandering  through 
the  Gap  into  the  Basin;  its  hoof-prints  no  doubt  being 
those  Len  Ferrall  had  come  upon  in  his  jaunt  on  the  morn 
ing  we  first  saw  the  flaming  signal  from  the  mountain- 
top. 

Then  a  sudden  turn  brought  into  view  the  granite 
domes  which  we  so  well  remembered  encompassed  the 
nook  in  the  mountain.  Only  a  single  ridge  lay  be 
tween,  and  upon  its  apex  Waring,  who  was  in  the  lead, 
came  to  a  sudden  halt.  An  exclamation  of  extreme  sur 
prise  broke  from  him.  Pausing  for  a  moment  before  we 
too  reached  the  spot  where  he  alone  stood,  we  turned 
upon  him  with  questioning  eyes.  He  had  half  turned 
toward  us,  his  features  white,  and  with  trembling  hand 
was  directing  over  the  ridge. 

"  My  God,  see !" 

We  scrambled  in  wild  excitement  to  the  top — to  blanch 
and  tremble  in  our  turn. 

210 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

For,  mark  you,  there  was  no  enchanting  nook;  no 
cabin  or  lake;  no  strip  of  forest-land;  none,  in  short,  of 
the  many  beauteous  details  which  the  visit  of  the  year 
before  had  so  indelibly  impressed  upon  our  minds,  and 
which  we  had  expected  to  see  with  the  same  feeling  of 
certainty  with  which  we  had  expected  the  dawn  to  follow 
the  night.  All  had  disappeared.  Instead  there  was  gashed 
a  long,  ochrous  wound  in  the  mountain-side  reaching 
from  the  over-lapping  snowdrifts  above  to  far  down, 
where  the  mass  had  slid  in  a  mighty  avalanche  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  Chiquita  below. 

The  sight  was  at  once  terrific  and  wonderful.  Such 
a  chaotic  intermingling  of  boulder  and  tree  and  general 
debris  I  have  never  seen.  Where  the  little  cabin  with 
all  its  beauty  of  overtopping  tree  had  stood  this  wound 
had  scarred  its  broadest,  and  had  scored  to  the  very 
bone  of  the  mountain, — a  granite,  overlaid  with  a  clay, 
yellow,  and  of  a  puttylike  consistency.  But  for  the 
harsh,  immovable  domes,  whose  very  roots  had  been 
bared,  we  should  never  have  recognized  this  scene  of 
ruin  as  the  site  of  our  visit  of  the  year  before. 

The  mystery  of  the  disturbance  of  the  night 
now  stood  revealed  to  us.  Loosened  by  the  frost  action 
of  many  decades  back,  by  secret,  subterranean  streams, 
and  by  the  law  of  gravitation,  the  slope  with  all  it  held 
had  in  a  moment  been  hurled  into  oblivion.  The  suc 
ceeding  tremors  which  we  had  felt  had  without  doubt 
been  caused  by  the  parting  and  dropping  away  of  minor 
detachments  due  to  the  nature  of  the  first  slide.  No 
question  for  a  single  moment  arose  in  our  minds.  It 
was  too  conclusive.  For  upon  the  pines,  lying  crossed 
and  re-crossed  in  inextricable  confusion,  the  needles 
were  as  fresh  and  green  as  those  upon  the  standing  trees. 

211 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

Nay,  as  we  stood  upon  the  brink,  silent,  bewildered,  I 
noted  that  the  water,  where  it  had  become  isolated  in 
little  pools,  still  stood  yellowed  and  only  partially  clear; 
and  that  the  spring  torrent  in  its  middle  occasionally 
backed  as  some  fresh  impediment  blocked  its  way;  to  a 
moment  later,  as  the  momentary  dam  broke  asunder, 
race  with  an  increased  vehemence  upon  its  changed 
course. 

It  would  be  undertaking  a  matter  of  no  little  difficulty 
were  I  to  attempt  to  describe  our  feelings  as,  for  the 
moment  bereft  of  speech,  we  stood  there.  I  can  not 
remember  that  disappointment — to  the  degree  of  keenness 
at  least  to  make  it  unduly  felt, — was  a  factor  at  any  time, 
— at  least  as  regarded  myself ;  for  throughout  an  element 
of  uncertainty  had  prevailed  which  had  prevented  an 
at  best  vacillating  faith  from  crystallizing  into  something 
more  positive,  accustomed  as  I  was  in  my  vocation  to 
the  handling  of  facts  and  figures.  As  for  Waring,  his 
earlier  reading  of  my  uncle's  papers  should  have — and 
in  a  measure  did,  I  believe, — prepared  him  for  what  was 
to  come.  I  believe  of  our  trio  Sutcliff  perhaps  took  the 
matter  most  seriously  to  heart.  His  faith  since  seeing 
that  little  heap  of  ore  by  the  cabin-door  was  unshaken; 
and  by  nature  of  a  sanguine  temperament,  as  we  have 
come  to  know,  I  fear  that  he  let  his  imagination  run 
away  with  him.  But  as  I  have  said,  the  impression  of 
the  moment  was  overwhelming,  and  in  that  one  over 
mastering  one  every  minor  emotion  was  engulfed. 
********* 

As  I  have  said  in  the  beginning  of  my  little  tale,  all 
this  occurred  years  ago.  Since  then  many  changes  have 
taken  place.  Both  Waring  and  myself,  for  one  thing, 
have  married  and  have  about  us  a  growing  group  of 

212 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

boys  and  girls.  He  is  still  at  the  ranch,  where  we  visit 
him  periodically, — always  an  occasion  the  family  looks 
forward  to  with  pleasure  and  delight.  After  supper 
at  such  times  we  usually  group  upon  the  broad  veranda, 
where  in  the  moonlight  it  is  but  a  very  natural  step  for 
us  to  revert  to  those  wonderful  days.  To  see  the  aston 
ished  eyes  of  our  boys,  and  to  read  the  interest  in  their 
voices,  as  they  gather  in  the  singular  incidents  that  go 
to  make  up  the  story,  greatly  amuse  both  Waring  and 
myself.  I  ask  about  our  friends;  Ballard, — the  oddity, 
Stayton, — the  Ferralls, — the  herder,  Faggerty, — the  half- 
breed, — and  lastly,  Sutcliff. 

And  here  a  strange  thing  shows  up.  Sutcliff  alone  of 
all  that  party  has  faith  in  the  story  of  the  lost  mine  to 
day.  For  as  time  passes  and  the  glamor  of  that  golden 
summer  and  its  strange  adventure  wear  away  in  the 
humdrum  of  our  everyday  life,  both  Waring  and  myself 
experience  grave  doubts  as  to  whether  it  may  not  after 
all  have  been  the  vagaries  of  a  brain  diseased,  and  with 
out  foundation  in  fact.  Not  so  with  Sutcliff,  poor  fellow. 
Faith  has  become  ingrained  in  the  man.  As  the  years 
elapse  he  grows  more  and  more  decided  in  his  views. 
He  is  not  the  one  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  his  senses  at 
any  time,  and  had  he  not  seen  the  little  dump  with  his 
own  eyes  and  handled  a  part  with  his  own  hands  ?  That 
a  painstaking  search  in  the  vicinity  of  the  site  where  the 
mine  was  alleged  to  have  been  discovered  failed  to  pro 
duce  anything  in  support,  in  no  wise  shook  him  in  his 
beliefs.  In  his  opinion  that  fact  rather  added  weight  to 
the  tale  since  it  accorded  with  what  the  hermit  had  sev 
eral  times  dwelled  upon,  namely  the  impression  that  it 
was  but  a  fragment  from  above,  bearing  upon  the  bed 
rock  but  not  coalescent  with  it.  Then  another  search 

213 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

was  made  of  all  that  ground  lying  toward  the  summit, 
—that  too  without  result.  Then  we  thought  we  had  him. 
But,  no;  the  virus  of  the  gold  fever  had  become  too 
deepseated.  He  maintained  that  the  face  of  nature 
changed  continually,  and  in  this,  of  course,  he  was  right. 
He  claimed  that  it  must  have  been  deposited  from  auove 
in  ages  prehistoric,  when  the  mountain  stood  much 
nearer  heaven.  The  elements  had  worn  down  the  moun 
tain  top  till  not  a  vestige  of  the  original  deposit  had  re 
mained.  This  was  a  new  point  of  view,  and  gave  rise  to 
yet  another.  He  began  to  argue  that  if  such  was  the  case 
placer  veins  should  be  a  consequence.  He  took  up  the 
idea  with  avidity.  It  has  had  possession  of  him  ever 
since.  He  is  a  most  worthy  successor  to  my  uncle,  I 
must  say.  Every  summer  he  camps  upon  the  Chiquita 
to  prospect.  He  has  come  to  know  every  foot  of  that 
mountain.  Down  under  the  shadow  of  its  brows,  on  the 
edge  of  the  woods  where  a  stretch  of  meadow  sweeps  to 
an  open  ford  of  the  Chiquita,  he  has  erected  a  little  shake 
cabin  where  any  time  from  June  to  October  he  may  be 
found.  If  you  meditate  interviewing  him  on  this  matter 
of  the  mine  there  are  several  trails  by  which  he  can  be 
reached.  All  are  very  interesting.  You  may  for  instance 
pass  up  Hooker's  Cove, — a  rather  difficult  feat  over  a 
rough  trail, — and  having  reached  its  mouth,  swing  up 
the  Chiquita  to  his  abode.  Another  is  the  well-known 
one  back  of  Heron  Valley  and  the  old  Scarlett  Mill. 
When  you  have  reached  the  ruined  hut  among  the  tam 
arack  of  the  Summit  Meadows  turn  to  your  right  down 
between  the  forks, — a  comparatively  easy  though  some 
what  long  trail.  The  first  route  has  this  advantage :  you 
may  anticipate  your  man  an  hour  or  two,  as  he  is  an  ar 
dent  angler  and  puts  in  a  goodly  portion  of  his  time  on 

214 


The  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 

the  stream  between  French  Bar  and  his  cabin  with  rod 
and  line.  The  second  has  this :  you  can  put  in  a  day  very 
pleasantly  at  the  lake  back  of  the  dam  fishing  for  black 
bass ; — an  agreeable  interruption,  let  me  say,  to  the 
tedium  of  travel  over  hill-roads  at  no  time  such  as  to 
cater  to  our  sense  of  comfort.  Then,  again,  on  the  high 
est  point  on  that  trail,  where  to  the  east  you  have  mapped 
below  you  the  long,  green  chain  so  frequently  mentioned 
as  the  Summit  Meadows,  there  is  a  dark  stretch  of  fir 
woods  upon  the  right  which  the  sun  only  checkers  in  in 
frequent  spots.  Swing  off  the  trail  here  and  a  short  dis 
tance  up  the  ridge  you  come  to  another  point  of  interest, 
— another  artificial  lake ;  the  site  where  once  was  sought 
the  diversion  of  a  portion  of  the  waters  of  the  Chiquita, 
to  have  them  mingle  with,  and  swell  the  volume  of  the 
Fork. 

But  by  far  the  most  interesting  is  the  route  we  took 
upon  our  last  visit.  One  here  meets  with  all  the  points 
of  interest, — the  deserted  mill  on  the  Fork, — Gray's — the 
Deerhorn  Meadows, — the  Butte,  and  the  imposing  heights 
of  Spirit  Mountain,  and  lastly  the  Gap  of  the  Shuteye 
and  the  trail  to  the  Chiquita.  By  this  route  you  will 
arrive  at  the  cabin  late  in  the  afternoon, — a  most  op 
portune  hour  you  will  discover,  as  the  chances  are 
greatly  in  your  favor,  that  you  will  find  a  pan  of  crisp 
trout,  or  a  quarter  of  venison,  nicely  browning  over  the 
fire,  awaiting  you,  together  with  an  ovenful  of  white, 
wholesome  bread,  a  pot  of  refreshing  tea,  a  hospitable 
host,  and  over  the  campfire  later  an  entertaining  recital 
of  the  story  of  the  Lost  Mine  of  the  Mono. 


215 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


HAY 


19*3 


195Q 


FEB  1 8  1960 
NOV  2  1  1960 


of  CALIFORMEi 


PS 
3£21 

K668  1 


